


Love Potions Aren't Always Lovely

by obsidian_GSD



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Forced Orgasms, Hand Jobs, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kidnapped Jaskier | Dandelion, Lust Potion/Spell, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Not Beta Read, Past Rape/Non-con, Pining, Post TV Canon, Post-Canon, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Whump, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020, due to the effects of the potion, no beta we die like men, this is not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26986684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsidian_GSD/pseuds/obsidian_GSD
Summary: When Geralt catches word of a person that is being used as a test subject for a newly created potion, he wastes no time rushing to the village. Especially when he hears what the effects of the potion are and that they are being tested on a bard that has a history of traveling with strange company.He can only hope he will be in time to save the bard before any more damage can be done and does what he can to shove aside the fear that's already building in him when he thinks about the state he will find the bard in.Takes place after the events of the netflix show!Disclaimer: Archive warnings do NOT apply for anything that happens between Geralt and Jaskier
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 36
Kudos: 180





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No actual rape will be shown in this fic, but it will be heavily implied in the past sense. 
> 
> I'm aware there are plenty of fics where Jaskier is kidnapped and hurt for one reason or another. I just write what I want to when I want to lol.

It’s been ten years since Geralt has crossed paths with the bard. 

Not that he’s been counting - something he tries to make himself believe anyways, while he also tries to pretend he hasn’t been looking for the bard for years. Sitting against the wall, hidden in the dark, Geralt nurses his third pint of the night and tries to drown out the singing coming at him from across the room. He’s never cared for other bards, not since he left his stranded on a mountain. 

Shaking his head, he takes another sip of his drink and wonders if it’s time to leave. He’s allowed himself to splurge on a room for the night, even though he hasn’t had a real job all week. However, something told him to stay here in this village, told him to stick around for one more day, so he listened to the voice and rented a room. Eyes bounce off of him as he pulls himself to his feet, deciding he can’t stand the off key singing any longer, but he slows as he starts to pass a table, the voices traveling easily to him even with the din around him. 

“Have you heard the stories, of the new potion some mage created?” one man starts, voice low. 

Geralt watches as the rest of the men at the table all shake their heads and he waits to see if there’s more to the story, wondering what new potion could possibly have been created and for what purpose. “Few villages over, there’s supposedly a potion that was created that’s turned someone into the best lay you will ever have.”

The man talking raises a brow, a grin spreading across his features. Geralt feels something twist in his stomach at those words coupled with that look and he has to fight the urge to move closer in order to make the man explain more of the story sooner. The other men around the table all start to lean in closer, suddenly excited about wherever this story is possibly going. 

“How has a potion done that?” A different man finally asks, spurring the conversation on with his own grin. 

“Don’t have many details but, this potion makes them lose their minds. They ask for it, for days at a time, like a bitch in heat. Apparently, they’ve had to keep changing the dose because of how fast he has been burning through it lately; the current dose lasts for two weeks at a time right now,” the man explains and Geralt feels his teeth start to grind at the words. 

“Not sure how I feel about that,” one of the men starts to say, but he’s cut off by the first.

“They ask for it the entire time,” the man states, taking a sip of his drink. “If you don’t touch them, they just complain and whine until you do. Even if you don’t feel like fucking them, they have a mouth that supposedly feels like silk. Heard they used to be a bard that traveled with some interesting company; have themselves a nice reputation as a Monster Fucker.”

Geralt moves across the room before he’s even really thought about it, shoving his way past tables as his ears continue to pick up the story, dragging him closer. “Where’s the bard,” he growls, hand latching around the throat of the man speaking before any more of the story can come out of his mouth. 

“Looking to have yourself some fun, are you?” The man chokes out, a cruel smile twisting his lips even as his eyes land on Geralt’s witcher medallion. “Wouldn’t think someone like you would be into a bard that never shuts u-”

Geralt slams his fist into the man’s face, breaking his nose instantly. Without releasing his hand from where it’s wrapped around a slender throat, he watches as the man coughs around a mouthful of blood. The other men at the table back away, yelling at him the entire time as if that will get him to let go. “Where,” Geralt growls once again, lower than before. 

Dark eyes glare up at him before the man spits the name of a town at him, blood spraying him in the face. Geralt throws the man to the ground before he stalks past the rest of the patrons. Making his way to the room he rented where all of his stuff is already residing, he packs everything up as fast as he can and leaves the room behind. Before the owner can even say anything to him, he’s shoving his way out of the building, face instantly blasted with colder night air. 

It doesn’t take him long to saddle Roach up once again, giving her some extra love since she won’t get a chance to rest much,before riding off as quickly as she will let him. Geralt knows where the town is, knows how long it will take him to get there, but as he plans his path, he also realizes a nearby village he will need to stop by. As he rides, he continues to go over a plan, doing everything in his power to not think of what could possibly be happening and gives himself multiple options in case he needs them. 

The sun is just starting to poke above the horizon when Geralt pulls into the first village. He quickly makes his way to a specific tavern, one he has used several times himself, and attaches Roach to a post after loosening her sadle. Slipping inside the still silent tavern, Geralt nods to the man behind the bar before he sits down at one of the tables in the corner and waits for the sun to climb higher. It takes more effort than he will care to admit to force himself to be patient. 

Eventually, the place comes alive around him and Geralt finds he can wait no longer; he silently moves over to the bar and leans across the counter. “What room is the woman with violet eyes and the white haired girl with her staying in?” he asks quickly, voice as low as he can make it. 

The man before him looks up at him and Geralt wonders if the human will try and say he doesn’t know who he is talking about, but before either of them can say anymore, a voice calls out to him. 

“Geralt!” Ciri exclaims, her voice easily carrying through the tavern. 

The witcher turns, a smile stretching on his lips even with his mind clouded with worry; he will always have room in his heart for Ciri’s happiness. “Good morning, Ciri,” he grumbles as he holds an arm out for her, ready for the hug he knows is coming his way. 

“We weren’t expecting to see you,” Yennefer states as she walks over, following closely behind Ciri. “At least, not for another couple of weeks or so.”

“Plans changed,” Geralt says, his eyes finding Yennefer’s easily. More passes between them in the next few moments as Ciri finally pulls away from the hug and eyeballs them both. 

“What’s going on?” she asks before they can say anything else. “It’s something bad, isn’t it?” 

Geralt sighs, reminding himself that she is no longer the child he found in the woods. “I’m not entirely sure yet, pup,” he starts, not knowing exactly what to say. 

Yennefer huffs. “Well, it brought you here, so I’m assuming you need help.”

Geralt nods at her, happy that she knows he wouldn’t be here otherwise. He had promised the sorceress that he would leave the two of them alone for a bit; Ciri needed some time away from the keep, away from the wtichers. Time to enjoy being a teenager and Geralt was grateful to Yennefer when she offered to take Ciri traveling with her for a bit, knowing Ciri would for sure be safe in her hands. 

“I might need help with a portal back to Kaer Morhen, depending on what I find,” Geralt explains, keeping things as vague as possible. “There’s a chance I might need your advice with potions too.”

“Potions? Really,” Yennefer replies, an eyebrow raising. She knows as well as Geralt does how much more he knows about potions than she does, but they both know what it means when he asks for help. There’s a very good chance he’s going to be in over his head whenever he does finally get to the next village and this is his only way of asking for it without alerting the other pair of ears between them. “Ciri, go order us some breakfast while I make a plan with Geralt.”

Ciri starts to pout, but with one look from Yennefer, Geralt is happy to see the girl understands that this isn’t the time to argue. As soon as she has moved off, Yennefer turns violet eyes on Geralt. “Who is it?”

Geralt hums, throat rumbling lowly. “I’m not sure just yet,” he states, eyes moving away from the intense stare. “There’s a good chance that it’s someone I haven’t seen in quite a few years and that they’re going to be more injured than we have ever seen them.”

“More than when they almost died from that djinn?” Yennefer questions, voice soft. 

Geralt only hums once more, turning his eyes back to Yennefer’s. Before either of them can say anything, Ciri comes back over, two plates of food in her hands with another being set on the bar behind Geralt. The conversation changes instantly as Ciri starts to tell Geralt everything her and Yennefer have been up to for the last month or so. The witches does his best to pay attention between scarce bites of food, his brain too busy working out how long it will take him to get to the other village and back, and what supplies he will need to take with him when he goes. The rest he can leave here, allowing Roach to carry an extra body more easily on the way back. 

Forcing himself to wait until he’s done eating, Geralt pushes away from the bar top with the excuse of needing to check on Roach, which isn’t wrong. He makes his way outside, reaching out for the mare who nickers softly at him. “Sorry girl,” he whispers. “I just need you to keep going for a little while longer.”

As he rubs her neck, someone runs over with buckets of feed and water. Geralt nods his thanks, knowing he will owe Yennefer so many favors once all of this is behind them. He takes his time going through the bags attached to the mare, shifting through the items until he knows for sure what he’s going to take with him. The rest he offloads into an extra pack that he takes back inside and hands off to the sorceress. 

“I’ll be back for all of this,” he mumbles as the pack is taken from him, along with his silver sword he doesn’t think he will need. He keeps his silver dagger though, just in case. “I shouldn’t be more than a day or two.”

Yennefer nods. “If it truly is him, take care of him and hurry back.”

Geralt can only turn and walk away, knowing there isn’t really anything else that can be said right now. They don’t have enough information, can’t say anything for certain. Pushing those thoughts aside, Geralt only rubs his hand over Roach’s neck once more, fixes her saddle, and climbs on. “Let’s go, girl.”

The pair ride hard, hitting the next village before the sun touches the opposite horizon. It takes most of the day to get there and even with the panic threatening to build within him, Geralt manages to remind himself to stop a few times for Roach’s sake. It doesn’t take him long to find a tavern once he enters the village and he ties Roach out front, heading inside right away after pulling a cloak out from one of the saddle bags. 

Walking over to the bar, Geralt can feel too many pairs of eyes on him, can feel people watching him as he walks, but he shoves the feeling aside and stays on his path. “How much for feed and water for my horse?” Geralt asks once he catches the eye of one of the men behind the bar. “I don’t plan on staying long,” he tacks on once he sees the look that crosses the man’s face. 

Sighing, the barman hollers over his shoulder at younger kid, letting them know to go get a stall ready for a horse. Geralt pulls out his coin bag, pulling some out before he’s ever given an answer. The two men grumble at each other, but Geralt pauses as his ears start to pick up on a conversation going on behind him, one that immediately has him bristling. 

“Guess they dosed the kid again tonight,” one man states. 

“Fucking finally,” another answers. “Those two weeks took entirely too fucking long this time.”

The sound of a tankard smacking the counter has Geralt turning ever so slightly, waiting to catch more of the conversation as he reaches for his own drink he must have ordered at some point. A group in the corner catches his eye and he has to fight the urge to move closer. Nothing good will come from him making a scene this time. 

“I heard they raised the rates this time,” a different man adds. 

“That they did,” the first responds, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “There’s a rumor going around that the kid is starting to go south. Apparently, they figure if they raise rates, they can make him last longer since us lower folk shouldn’t be able to afford it. Personally, I think they just need to put him out of his misery and find a new play toy already.”

A few grumbles go around the table and Geralt grinds his teeth. 

“Well, they can raise the rates all they want. The bitch is going to meet his end eventually; at least they have time to train another.” This only causes the table to break out in a round of laughter, tankards smacking against each other before they all take gulps of their drinks. 

One of the men hollers to the bar, another round of drinks ordered as the laughter starts to die down. Geralt finds himself moving to a closer table, hiding in the shadows as much as he can as the tavern fills around him. “Have you heard where they are moving him to now?” One of the men asks and Geralt forces himself to block out as much sound around him as possible. 

He listens intently as the original man starts to tell them all which building to look for, how to knock to get the guards to let them in. The man even seems to know the going rate for this new “cycle” and Geralt grinds his teeth once more, doing everything he can to stay in his seat. “I’d put your name down tonight if you want a chance to get to play this cycle; the days fill up quickly,” the man finishes and Geralt drains the last of his drink, setting the tankard down and stalking back over to the bar. 

“Take care of the horse, but don’t untack her,” Geralt grumbles as he slides more coins across the bar top. “We won’t be staying the night.”

“Are you sure about that?” the man asks even as he pockets the coins. “They just doped the kid again and they wouldn’t care about you being a witch-”

Geralt turns and shoulders his way through the sea of patrons, the man’s words falling on deaf ears as the blood rushes in his veins. The building he needs to go to is further away than he would like, but he knows that Roach needs a break, no matter how small. She’s going to need to push herself at least one last time and with how dark it will be soon, Geralt knows he will be able to slip back here easily. Throwing the cloak around his shoulders, he pulls the hood down low as he walks, hiding his hair as much as possible.

Even though he has never been to this village, the place he is looking for isn’t hard for him to find. The sign the man at the table mentioned hangs outside, marking the building for anyone that knows what to look for. Geralt holds back a growl when he sees how many people are milling around outside as well, waiting to enter. This might take longer than he wants it too, but he has to shove that thought aside as he slips out of the shadows and heads to the door. 

“Well, look what we have,” one man calls out as he notices Geralt who has pulled his hood down once he noticed how many people are around. 

“Apparently even witcher’s have finally heard about our little bitch,” another voice hollers at him, causing the surrounding men to chuckle. 

Geralt forces himself to remain still as more eyes turn to look at him; it’s nothing new, not really. He’s been stared at more times than he will ever care to admit, but never with this much anger coursing through him. “What would I have heard?” Geralt stares down the group, daring one of them to come close enough for him to grab one of them, but no one moves closer even as one of them open their mouths to answer. 

“Caught ourselves a monster fucker,” the man closest to Geralt calls out. “He used to travel with one of your kind, for decades apparently if the stories are to be believed. He’ll really enjoy himself if you walk in there.”

The group of men in front of him laugh and Geralt feels his eyes burn as he stares them down. Turning away, he finally pushes on to the door, knocking on the hard wood in the pattern he was taught what feels so long ago now. It doesn’t take long for the door to open, a hard eye shinning in the lantern light. “Payment up front; extra if you want to be moved up the line.”

“How much,” Geralt growls, voice leaving no room for argument. 

The person behind the door grunts out a number, a hand sneaking out from behind the door. Geralt pulls his entire coin purse off of his belt and hands it over. “That enough to get in now?” he growls once more, almost hoping for a fight at this point. 

Geralt doesn’t have to wait long before the door swings open and Geralt shoulders his way inside. “You can leave whatever you want in the room to the right; no one will bother it and it means having to take less things with you downstairs.”

The witcher only shoots a glare in the man’s direction, not even bothering to answer the question with words. He won’t be removing anything on his person, not until he has Jaskier far away from this place. 

“Suit yourself,” the man mutters before stumbling away, leading Geralt down a long and narrow hallway. They end up descending a set of stairs that are hidden behind a door, which only forces Geralt to push another surge of anger down. Wondering just how long it has been since Jaskier has been allowed to see day light won’t do either of them any good at this point. 

When they reach a door, the man pulls up short and stops, pressing himself against the door. “Go in whenever you feel like. You paid to be the first in line, so he will at least be clean for you. Try not to rough him up too much; there’s plenty of people waiting for their turns tonight.”

One of Geralt’s hands latches around the man’s neck, slamming him against the wall before he even processes he’s doing anything. “Leave,” Geralt growls lowly, voice reaching new levels of dangerous. 

As soon as he releases the man, he heads towards the door, not bothering to make sure the man actually leaves. Opening the door slowly, Geralt looks around, taking in as much as he can. The lights in the room are low, but with his vision, nothing hides from him. 

The first thing he sees is the giant bed taking up most of the small room, something he almost can’t believe he is seeing. After everything he’s heard about how they have been keeping Jaskier, an actual bed is the last thing he figured would be here. It doesn’t take him long to spot the shadowy shape laying in the middle of the bed, the sounds of heavy breathing reaching his ears soon after. Strong smells assault Geralt’s senses as soon as he walks into the room and it almost knocks him back even as it adds fuel to the fire. 

Geralt finds himself rooted in place as he listens, when a voice calls out that leaves him feeling like he’s been drenched in ice cold water. “Please... I know y-you’re there... J-just get it over w-with...”

Forcing his legs to carry him, Geralt moves closer to the bed, making as much noise as he can so alert the figure on the bed. He notices a lantern on a table next tot he bed and takes a moment to light it, dowsing the room in a dull glow. It isn’t much, but part of him hopes it can bring some comfort tot he man on the bed. The shape writhes as he turns back to the bed and Geralt holds himself back. “Jaskier,” he whispers, voice gruffer than normal, full of emotions he refuses to acknowledge. 

A pale face turns towards him, shock filling it’s features instantly. “G-geralt...?” he whispers. “Is it... r-really you...?”

Taking a deep breath, Geralt stretches a hand down, grabbing the one reaching out towards him, grasping it tightly. He can tell it instantly grounds the man below him even as a slew of emotions runs over his face. “I’m here,” he murmurs, not knowing what to say in this situation. 

“G-geralt....” Jaskier sighs, eyes closing at the end. “I must b-be dreaming.” 

Moving to sit on the bed, Geralt reaches he free hand out, cradling Jaksier’s face. “I’m actually here, Jaskier.”

Geralt watches as Jaskier turns into his touch, nuzzling against the hand cradling his face. The witcher has never seen the bard act like this and doesn’t know how to react at this point. After so many years of not seeing each other, this reunion is nothing like what he ever wanted it to be, even if he doesn’t know what it could have been. 

Jaskier’s eyes fly open and Geralt can’t help but notice how clouded they are. “P-please...” Jaskier whimpers and Geralt feels something in him break at the sound. 

“I’m here to get you out,” Geralt explains. Relief washes over Jaskier’s features, only to be replaced by a grimace soon after that’s coupled with more writhing.

“G-geralt...” Jaskier cries out as he nuzzles the hand on his face once more. “P-please... I n-need...”

The whimpers grow stronger and Geralt feels compelled to run this thumb over Jaskier’s cheek, doing whatever he can to comfort the man below him. Instead, the whimpers only grow to whines and Geralt starts to pull away, wondering if his actions are causing the other pain instead. The hand still attached to his tightens though, causing Geralt to freeze. Just as he starts to open his mouth to ask what he can do to help, he watches as Jaskier’s body tenses before more whines escape from him followed quickly by hard shudders that wrack the slender frame. The scent of cum mixes in the stale air, assaulting Geralt’s senses. Part of him knew that that what was happening, but another part of him wants so badly to pretend they aren’t both stuck in this nightmare right now. 

Heavy breathing fills the silence between them and Geralt finds himself stuck, unable to do anything as he watches Jaskier. The words from the men he’s talked to over the last day or so start to flood him and Geralt quickly pieces it all together. “Jaskier,” he starts, but the other cuts him off. 

“N-not my finest m-moment,” Jaskier breathes out, chuckling at the end sadly. “It hurts, Geralt... Everything h-hurts unless I...”

Taking a deep breath, Geralt maneuvers so he is sitting against the makeshift headboard on the bed. Looking down at Jaskier, he holds an arm out, a silent question passing between the two of them before Jaskier struggles to move closer. Geralt quickly moves to wrap an arm around the bard, pulling him against his side. They only have a few minutes to spare, but Geralt knows that right now, this is important. “Not how I imagined us meeting up again would go,” he whispers once Jaskier is tucked against his side, head on his chest. 

A huffed laugh reaches his ears. “Have to say I agree with t-that statement,” Jaskier replies. A shiver runs through him and Geralt pulls him even closer, tightening his hold. Jaskier groans immediately and Geralt freezes in place. “S-sorry, this stuff works f-fast unfortunately...”

Geralt growls low in his throat at Jaskier’s words. After a moment, a thought crosses Geralt’s mind that has him fighting to contain his anger once again. A question crosses his mind, one that he wants to ask, but he can’t force the words out of his mouth, knowing how they will sound. “We can’t wait much longer,” he finally says, the desire to get Jaskier somewhere safe overruling every other emotion inside of him. 

“Y-yes, of c-course,” Jaskier gasps. 

Moving to get off of the bed, Geralt freezes when he feels a hand slide down his chest. “Jaskier?” he asks, voice holding back as much as possible. 

“P-please...” Jaskier whimpers. “J-just do it quickly...”

Geralt feels the next question on the tip of his tongue, but before he can ask it, a bang on the door has his pausing. “You better be getting your moneys worth in there!” A voice hollers with the echo of footsteps walking away from the room following it. 

It’s all Geralt needs to remind him of what he really needs to be doing right now. Looking down at Jaskier again, the witcher starts to pull away, noticing just how undressed the bard is at the moment. Pulling his cloak from around his shoulders, Geralt moves to wrap Jaskier in it, but stops when he sees the reaction he gets. 

“G-geralt...” Jaskier whines as the fabric slides across his skin. “It hurts...”

Grunting, Geralt stops, reaching out for Jaskier once again. “What can I do, Jaskier?” he asks, hoping there’s something he can do to help. From what he knows about the potion, none of this is within Jaskier’s control and it pains him to see someone so strong reduced to this. 

Clouded blue eyes find him, full of pain and something Geralt can’t quite force himself to recognize, as a hand reaches out for him once more. Leaning down, Geralt cradles Jaskier’s cheek, holding him carefully once more. His other hand stays on the cloak as he tries his best to save whatever he can of his friend’s dignity. As he keeps his eyes trained on the ones in front of him though, he has to push everything down as he hears Jaskier breathe harder before his body tenses once again. A shuddering breath leaves the smaller man along with a groan and Geralt feels his own breathing hitch as he fights back the urge to pull Jaskier against him. It takes everything in him to ignore the smell once more, keeping everything it brings up locked away. 

Giving it a few moments, Geralt whispers whatever he can think of to bring Jaskier back down to him, waiting patiently. A voice reminds him that there isn’t much time left, but Geralt ignores it as long as he possibly can. “Jaskier,” he finally whispers, waiting for those eyes to land on him again. “I have to go clear a path, but I’ll be right back.”

It’s the part of the plan that Geralt was hoping he wasn’t going to have to use; leaving Jaskier behind again leaves a bad taste in his mouth and he can’t help but think something bad will happen if he does leave the bard here. Seeing the state Jaskier is in right now, Geralt knows that this is the only plan he can go with. When Jaskier whines, Geralt moves his hand from cradling a soft cheek to run his fingers through hair that’s longer than he remembers it being. 

“D-don’t go...” Jaskier whimpers and Geralt almost breaks, almost goes back to the original plan, but he has to push it all aside, knowing that this is the only way things will work. 

“I just have to clear the building,” Geralt replies. Part of him points out that he hasn’t talked this much in ages, even with Ciri being around, and he has to fight off the urge to shut his mouth and go back to being quiet. “I’ll be back as soon as I can be, I’m not leaving you here. There’s nothing that could make me leave you alone again.”

It takes everything in Geralt to pull away from Jaskier. He has to force himself to turn away from the look that flashes across the bard’s face, has to ignore it as much as possible. Steeling himself, he pulls the only blade he carries on his back from it’s sheath before opening the door. The first strike is easy, the image of how frail and broken his bard is after all of this time fresh in his mind as he slices the first person down. When he gets to the second man, he doesn’t reach him in time before a warning is yelled up the stairs, alerting whoever else is still in the building and most likely those outside of the building as well. 

Geralt’s vision flashes red as his thoughts continue to race, reminding him of all of the things he has overhead. Reminding him of how long Jaskier has to have been here and he does nothing to quell the blood lust those thoughts raise in him. Men scream around him, either as they run towards him or as he strikes them down before moving on to the next man. After that one day all of those years ago, Geralt promised himself he would never do this again, would never tear through a group of men like this ever. With all that’s happened today alone though, Geralt can’t hold anything back any longer. 

As he slices the last of the men outside down, Geralt takes a moment to breath, his lungs burning from exertion. His mind races too fast for him to assess if he is injured anywhere, but it’s nothing he can’t put off for later. Heading back inside, Geralt puts his sword away and hurries back down the flight of stairs, heading back towards the room he never wants to see again. When he enters, the first thing he senses is the smell of fear radiating from the bed. 

“I’m here, Jaskier,” he calls out immediately, needing to comfort the other as soon as possible. 

A whine is the only thing he receives in response and he takes the few steps back to Jaskier’s side quickly. When he’s close enough, he reaches a hand out for Jaskier, running his fingers down a slim arm until he can grasp a shaking hand. Conscious of the fact he’s covered in blood, Geralt is as he grips Jaskier, hoping to not cover the other man in blood as well. “Give me a second,” he whispers, spotting a threadbare blanket at the foot of the bed. 

Moving to pull away from Jaskier, he’s stopped when the hand he’s holding tightens. “D-don’t....” Jaskier starts to say, taking a few rapid breaths after the one short word. Geralt waits, giving the other a chance to tr and speak, but realizes that he wont’ be able to continue. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Geralt tells him. He has only seen Jaskier this bad one other time and even then, he could at least walk away for a moment or two. Now though, he feels guilty even just thinking about leaving Jaskier’s side and his need to at least try and clean the blood off of himself wars with rest of him. 

Managing to finally pull his hand away from Jaskier, Geralt moves to the other side of the bed and grabs the blanket. As he wipes off the blood that covers his face, he can’t help but fill the silence. He’s talking more than he can ever remember talking, but something tells him to keep doing it. Part of him hopes that he’s helping Jaskier somehow by doing this, even as he shoves down the voice that’s telling him he’s not doing anything right. 

It’s the next high pitched whine that gets him to put down the now bloody blanket. It only takes him a second to decide to crawl on to the bed, crawling over it in order to pull Jaskier into his arms, needing to hold the smaller man close. A full body shudder has Jaskier shaking in Geralt’s arms, breathing hard against his neck where his face is pressed. “I’ve got you,” Geralt murmurs as he runs a hand through the bard’s hair. 

He grits his teeth as he fights off the urge to go and find everyone that’s had a hand in this, knowing he’s killed the majority of them already. “It-t hurts...” Jaskier cries out, arching into Geralt’s touch. 

Wishing he knew how to make it stop, Geralt only holds Jaskier tighter, but starts to worry about how he’s going to get the bard out of here and back to the other village. At this point, they won’t be able to make it far tonight, not without having to stop each time Jaskier is overtaken by the effects of the potion. Watching Jaskier be in pain over and over again is starting to take a toll on the witcher and he knkows that he needs to do something to help, even if he doesn’t know what that is. 

“How can I help?” he finally whispers, voice softer than he’s heard it in a long time. 

Jaskier huffs a breath against him before shifting in Geralt’s arms. Waiting to see if Jaskier will say anything, Geralt only continues to card his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, wanting to give him whatever comfort he can. After a moment, he feels Jaskier move again and starts to pull away. “D-don’t...” Jaskier whimpers before he can get far though and Geralt instantly stops himself, willing to do anything Jaskier needs him to. 

An arm shifts in his grasp and Geralt loosens his grip just enough for it to move. Fingers brush his upper thigh, but don’t touch him any more than that, even when they start to brush against him in a very set pattern. The pattern starts to seem familiar and Geralt stops himself from looking down. Jaskier’s breathing gets heavier, is filled with little whines and gasps that wishes he wasn’t hearing right now under these circumstances. He has no choice but to listen to them though and only holds Jaskier, running his thumb over the smooth skin of Jaskier’s back. 

When the whines reach a certain point, Geralt starts to realize that they don’t reach the threshold he’s expecting them to. “Jaskier,” he says, voice rumbling deep in his chest. The bard almost keens, his arm moving faster. “Jaskier, it’s ok,” Geralt continues, nuzzling his face into Jaskier’s hair. 

That’s all it takes. 

The words have barely left Geralt’s lips when Jaskier’s whines reach a fever pitch. It doesn’t take much longer before Jaskier is shaking in his arms, hips thrusting gently as he works himself through yet another orgasm. When Jaskier let’s out a broken sound, Geralt has to fight off every instinct in him that is screaming at him to kill them all, to raze the entire village and leave it to burn. 

Geralt loses track of how long they lay there, settled into some twisted sense of peace. Knowing it can’t last for much longer though, the witcher finally starts to pull away. Jaskier doesn’t make a sound this time and Geralt knows that this is his chance to get them both out of here. As he walks to the other side of the bed after pulling himself to his feet, he hears the bed rustle and finds a pair of blue eyes following him. 

“Geralt...” Jaskier whispers as the witcher draws nearer. 

“I’m getting you out of here, Jaskier,” Geralt replies, reaching for the forgotten cloak. He watches as Jaskier’s eyes close before he pulls the thick material over the bard, waiting to see if he’s going to get the same reaction as the time before. Instead, he only cocks his head as he hears Jaskier’s breathing even out. 

Pulling the bard into his arms, he easily lifts him off of the bed, cradling him against his chest as he fights to not think about just how light he is. It doesn’t take him long to carry the bard up the stairs and out of the cursed house that’s now home to a night full of memories he won’t easily be able to forget.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the reads so far! 
> 
> Story is still in progress so I might add a couple more tags/ character tags in the future, but nothing major!

Sticking to as many shadows as he possibly can, Geralt makes his way back to the tavern he left Roach at. Since he paid beforehand, he has no desire to go back inside, so he heads to the back of the building where he can smell the stables. As soon as he enters them, he can hear a nicker coming from down the halls and he smiles when he hears it. “Good girl,” he whispers back, finding her stall easily. 

Her tack rests on a stand next to the door to her stall and as much as it bothers him that someone might have gone through his stuff, Geralt only sighs. The horse has worked hard the past couple of days and he knows she needed the break. Shoving the anxiety aside, Geralt sets Jaskier down, making sure he won’t fall over, and reaches over the half door to rub Roach’s neck. “It’s going to be a long night,” he tells her. “But there will be plenty of time for you to rest once we get back to the keep.”

A soulful look is all he gets in response and Geralt knows the horse understands him. Turning, Geralt locates the packs, finding the one that is holding the extra set of clothes he thought to bring with him. It isn’t much, but Geralt pulls out the old pair of pants and shirt buried deep in a pack. The material of them is soft even to his own hands, so he knows it will feel even more soft to the bard. 

Pulling the cloak away, Geralt tries not to hear the soft whimper that Jakier lets slip in his sleep. It takes him a moment, but he finally maneuvers Jaskier enough to get the clothes on him. Unable to help himself, Geralt stops to brush a lock of hair out of the bard’s face. It’s longer than he has ever seen it, curling down to frame the front of Jaskier’s face and almost reaching past his shoulders in the back. 

In the low lighting, the witcher finally takes in the sight of Jaskier’s face that he can see so clearly now that he’s taking the time to look. Remembering the cloudy eyes, Geralt can also see the dark circles under Jaskier’s eyes, along with how sunken in they look. Cheekbones stick out more than they ever have, making the bard’s face look gaunt and covered in shadows Geralt wants to badly to chase off. 

As his fingers trail from Jaskier’s hair, they move down and brush over one of those cheekbones, feeling the harsh line it creates under his touch. The longer he watches, the more a voice tells him they need to get going, but he can’t seem to tear his gaze away from the younger man. A thought strikes him as he kneels there, but before he can really even process it, his nose twitches as a new smell enters the air. 

He doesn’t get time to process it as eyes start to flutter open and capture his full attention. A soft groan reaches his ears and Geralt braces himself, suddenly aware of how close he is to the bard. “Ger...” Jaskier whispers as cloudy eyes land on him. 

Knowing his hand is still resting on Jaskier’s cheek, Geralt does his best to remain still, not wanting to startle the other. “I’m here,” he replies, voice low. 

Roach huffs above them, hanging her head over the stall door to look down at the two of them. She mouths at Geralt’s hair and then at Jaskier’s, which only causes Jaskier to look up at her. A warm feeling spreads through Geralt as a smile tugs at Jaskier’s lips. It’s no where near a true smile, but it’s more than Geralt has seen from the man yet. “Hello,” the bard says softly as he continues to look at her. 

Geralt wants to let them stay in that moment, wants to be able to see happiness return to his bard, but of course destiny is never on his side. Before Geralt knows what is happening, a harsh shiver runs through Jaskier’s body, leaving the bard gasping as he doubles over, eyes wide. 

Reacting instantly, Geralt moves to hold Jaskier in both of his arms, hoping he isn’t making things worse as he does so. A whine is pulled from the bard instantly at his touch and all Geralt can think of is how loud and pain filled the sound is. “What do you need, Jaskier?” he asks as soon as his brain can process what’s happening. After the events at the house, he has a vague idea of what Jaskier needs, but he won’t do anything the bard doesn’t ask of him. 

Breathing heavily, Jaskier leans forward until his head is resting on Geralt’s shoulder. “Hurts...” Jaskier whines and Geralt knows he never wants to hear that sound coming from his bard ever again if he can help it. 

“How can I help,” he tries again, needing to know if there’s anything he can do to fix this. 

Jaskier’s only answer is to shift slowly, moving until he can crawl into Geralt’s lap. Not knowing what to do, Geralt only wraps his arms around Jaskier after he settles, holding him as tightly as he dares. He’s immediately aware of how visible they are, of how easily someone could walk in and see them. With everything he’s heard from this village, they will know who Jaskier is instantly, especially once the bodies start being found outside of the house. 

While his mind starts to turn all of this over, Jaskier settles deeper in his lap. As the bard starts nuzzling his face against Geralt’s neck, the witcher knows the bard has no idea how bad their situation is. Ducking his own head, Geralt presses against Jaskier’s neck, wanting so badly to hide the both of them from the world right now. When he feels shaky fingers start to trail down his arm towards his hand, Geralt only closes his eyes. Whatever Jaskier needs from him right now, whatever comfort he can give the bard, he will do so willingly. 

“Geralt...” Jaskier whimpers as he continues to pull on the witcher’s hand, moving towards where his legs are starting to part. 

Geralt pulls his head away from Jaskier’s neck, uses his nose to nudge the other until blue eyes look up at him, and stares long and hard at them. Tears shine back up at him. “I’ll help,” is all he says, fitting his hand over Jaskier’s. 

He could take anything he wants right now as Jaskier starts to slip their hands under the soft waistband of the pants. Could finally have Jaskier the way he has always wanted to. He could slide his hand over soft skin, leave his mark, make the other-

Shaking his head, Geralt pushes those thoughts aside, hating the part of him that dared to even have them in the first place. He starts to pull his hand away from Jaskier’s, tries to go back to just holding the smaller man, but as soon as he does, Jaskier’s hand turns to grab his wrist. “P-please...” Jaskier whimpers, holding his gaze. 

Geralt hums, moving his hand back to where it was, covering the smaller one easily. It’s bonier than he’s ever felt it, even after the harshest of winters, and he has to push down the emotions it brings up in him. He can only stare into those watery eyes as Jaskier starts to stroke himself, shaking in Geralt’s arm. The witcher holds him as close as he can with one arm as he runs his thumb over the back of Jaskier’s hand. 

“Ger...alt...” Jaskier whines as he strokes faster, guiding both of their hands. Geralt keeps his hand where it is, even when Jaskier’s own hand starts to stutter. 

“It’s ok,” Geralt rumbles again, echoing himself from earlier in the night. 

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Jaskier gasps and Geralt’s hand moves to catch the warm liquid, wanting to keep Jaskier as clean as he can. Breathing heavily, the bard’s head drops until it’s resting against Geralt’s shoulder once more. Each breath washes over Geralt’s skin and Geralt finds himself counting them as he waits for them to slow down.

When they even out once again, Geralt finally allows himself to look down and gives himself just a few moments to watch Jaskier as he sleeps. A peaceful look settles on the bard’s face, one Geralt so desperately wants to stay there as long as possible. Knowing that can’t happen right now though, he moves the sleeping body off of his lap to lean him against the stall wall again. 

He takes as little time as possible tacking Roach, even with double checking everything to make sure the horse will be as comfortable as she can be. They have to make this ride in one trip, have to get back to Yennefer and Ciri as soon as they can, which will mean less stops for the horse. As he finishes tacking her, Geralt turns back to Jaskier, ready to lift the bard in his arms, when he catches a sound coming from the main street. 

The one sound turns into many and Geralt is quick to notice that angry shouts are filling the night air. “He has to be around here somewhere! Find him!” One man yells and Geralt stiffens for just a second. 

“Fuck,” Geralt whispers as he throws the stall door wide open. Roach waits as Geralt moves away from her so he can wrap the cloak around Jaskier once more before he bends down to pick him up. With the bard asleep once more, this won’t be easy since Jaskier won’t be able to keep himself on the horse. Looking around, Geralt spies an extra lead rope that’s laying around and instantly plans on how to use it. Hoisting Jaskier up onto Roach, Geralt reaches for the rope even as the shouting grows nearer. 

Wasting no more time, Geralt climbs up onto Roach behind Jaskier. Working as fast as he can, Geralt winds the rope around the two of them, securing Jaskier in place, before clipping the rope to the saddle. The voices are closer than ever when Geralt finally urges Roach on, trotting her around the backside of the stables and away from the main road. Getting his bearings, Geralt points the mare in the right direction and they take off at a fast canter. 

Wrapping one arm around the bard, Geralt holds the reins in one hand, knowing the horse won’t take advantage of him. Even with the way they are both sitting in the saddle, Geralt knows Roach can’t be comfortable, but the mare puts up no fight. The witcher keeps his ears trained behind him, but senses no one following them. He knows that doesn’t mean anything though; from what he can tell, knowledge of Jaskier has traveled far and wide, which only lights another bout of anger in him. 

Sighing, Geralt takes a deep breath to calm himself and inhales the scent of his bard in front of him. The strong smell of perfumes and soaps that has always covered him is missing, replaced only by the gentle scent of flowers that is wholly Jaskier. It’s a smell Geralt hardly ever got to enjoy in the past, but now, he can’t help but inhale it once more as he tries to calm himself again. 

The night passes quickly, the road eaten up under Roach’s hooves. Geralt tries to not push her too hard, even finding time to let her stop and get some water a few times. Jaskier wakes once, pressing back against Geralt’s chest. The witcher only whispers softly to him, hand pressed against his chest as Jaskier whimpers in front of him. There isn’t much they can do right now and Geralt knows they can’t stop. Soon, Jaskier’s whimpers turn to soft cries that have the witcher thinking of abandoning all of his plans, but Jaskier only lets one last cry before his body shudders against Geralt. 

“You’re safe, Jaskier,” Geralt murmurs, chest rumbling. 

Jaskier’s only answer is yet another whimper. Geralt knows how tired the other is and waits for him to fall asleep once again, but when the whimpers only continue, he pulls Roach off to the side of the road, slowing her down. “Geralt... I...” Jaskier starts, voice so incredibly soft. 

Using the arm that isn’t busy holding Jaskier to his chest, Geralt uses his free hand and starts to run his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. It doesn’t pass his notice that it’s surprisingly clean, all things considered, and he has to hold back a shudder at the thoughts that run through his mind at that. “I’ve got you,” Geralt tells him, lost for words at this point. 

Leaning back against him, Jaskier breathes hard and Geralt wishes he knew how to get him to slow down. “I don’t m-mean to be a burden,” Jaskier whispers. Geralt tightens his grip around Jaskier, but before he can say anything, the bard starts talking again. “Thank you... For saving me...” 

Geralt hums, knowing this isn’t the place to have this conversation. There’s so much they need to talk about, but it’s a talk they need to have. “Jaskier,” he whispers, leaning his head forward to nuzzle against the bard’s neck. A shiver runs through the smaller man and Geralt forces himself to pull away after only a few moments. “We’ll talk, I swear it. We just need to get you somewhere safe first, alright?” 

It takes some time before Jaskier acknowledges his words and Geralt would wonder if he hadn’t fallen asleep again if he didn’t have his breathing to listen to. Not being able to look him in the eye was killing Geralt right now, but he couldn’t risk the time it would take to get them both down from Roach. “I’ll hold you t-to it...” Jaskier finally replies, voice calmer than Geralt has heard it all day. 

The witcher gives them a little longer to sit before he nudges Roach back onto the trail, the need to get them somewhere safe overriding everything else in him. With Jaskier still tucked against him, they can’t move faster than a brisk walk, but it’s enough for the time being. It also means Geralt can keep Jaskier warm; even with the spare clothes and Gerarlt’s cloak wrapped around him, the bard still shivers in the cold night air and the witcher wishes he had a way to keep him warmer. Roach takes her time, picking a path in the dark, and Geralt goes back to listening to the sounds of the forest around them, hoping to not pick up on sounds that would signal they are being followed.

Jaskier starts groaning again after too long and it tears at Geralt; having to listen to the bard in pain and with no control of his own body, is starting to take it’s toll on him and he knows it isn’t easy for the bard either. As they ride, a thought comes to Geralt, one he instantly hates, but sees the benefits too at the same time. “Jaskier,” he says, finally telling himself he needs to get it out in the open.

The bard only whimpers in response. 

Taking a deep breath, Geralt pushes on: “What if you could sleep for the whole ride. Would that make this any easier on you?”

Silence stretches between them and Geralt starts to wonder if this was a mistake. Jaskier knows about his signs, knows about the one that would let him sleep until Geralt allowed him to wake up again. If it was something Jaskier wanted him to do, there isn’t any reason why he couldn’t have just asked. Geralt takes another breath, ready to apologize and take his words back when Jaskier finally speaks. “Do it,” the bard croaks. 

“Jaskier, I-” 

“P-please...” Jaskier whispers and Geralt tries to ignore how much pain is behind that one word. “I-I trust you...”

Geralt hums again, running a hand through Jaskier’s hair. “I’ll wake you once we are somewhere safe,” Geralt hums. “It won’t be too much longer.”

“If it s-stops this...” Jaskier starts, stopping to suck in a breath through his teeth as a hard shudder runs through him. Geralt waits, wanting Jaskier to have a chance to finish speaking, but Jaskier only starts to whine again. “G-Geralt...”

“I’ve got you,” the witcher repeats. Part of him wishes they had more time. Wishes they could just talk, but he knows they don’t have that right now. Checking one last time to make sure Jaskier is secure against him, Geralt finally makes the sign of Somne. It only takes a few seconds to take effect, but when it does, Geralt is once again supporting all of Jaskier. 

Checking his breathing, Geralt wastes no time pushing Roach onwards once he hears it is even. They don’t have much time left before daybreak and the witcher is hoping to get as close to the village as possible before sunrise. The less people that see them arriving, the better. 

The hours pass by in silence with the sun eventually rising off to Geralt’s left. The forest is bathed in a golden glow quickly brightens the forest as Roach continues to push on. Pushing down the panic that is starting to make itself known again, Geralt only hopes that once they get to the village, there won’t be too many people out and about. There’s still a chill that would be bone deep for humans in the air, the sun doing nothing to help chase it away just yet. His and Roach’s breaths fog the air, Jaskier’s own soft breathing barely making itself known. 

It takes another couple of hours before the first roof comes into view and Geralt feels himself breathe a sigh of relief. “Almost there,” he tells the two others with him. They still have another long stretch ahead of them once they reach Yennefer, but Geralt knows that will be the easiest part of their journey. 

Slowing Roach when they get to the edge of the village, Geralt pulls the hood of the cloak down over Jaskier’s face, trying his best to make him look like an injured traveler he picked up. The fear of Jaskier being noticed starts to grip him again, but Geralt keeps his eyes trained ahead of them as he steers Roach to the tavern. It comes into view quickly, with only a few people in the streets even acknowledging his presence as they ride past. Stopping out front, Geralt dismounts off of Roach, checking to make sure Jaskier won’t slip off as he ties the horse up. 

They won’t be here long, but he still leaves the mare near the water trough as he finally unties Jaskier, pulling his small frame into his arms. It’s the first time Geralt has been able to see the bard’s face since they started their journey and he can’t help but be struck by how peaceful he looks as he sleeps. After all of the pain that has covered Jaskier’s face, seeing him so relaxed, Geralt wants nothing more than to keep it this way. Sighing, he makes his way to the tavern door, shouldering his way inside as soon as he reaches it. 

“Geralt!” Ciri calls out to him before his eyes have even adjusted to the lower lighting inside. 

Looking her way, Geralt manages to give her a soft smile even with how heavy his heart is at the moment. “Hey, pup,” he replies once she reaches him. 

A strange look washes over her face as she finally looks at the bundle in his arms. “Is he..?” she starts. 

“Sleeping. He’ll be ok,” Geralt rumbles back as he starts to walk further into the tavern. There might not be a lot of people around, but he still wants to get Jaskier out of sight as soon as possible. “Where’s Yennefer?”

Ciri steps in front of Geralt, leading the way through the maze of tables. “She’s up in the room; said something about resting up so she can make a portal.”

“Has she had to use a lot of magic lately?” Geralt asks instantly, worry settling in quickly at Ciri’s words. 

Nodding her head, Ciri flashes him a look over her should. “Yeah, but it’s nothing major,” she states as they reach the stairs leading up to the rooms above the bar. “People heard there was a sorceress in town and have been calling on her ever since to help them with this and that. She’s just worn herself out at this point.”

Geralt hums as he climbs the stairs, still following his child surprise. It doesn’t take them long before they are standing in front of a door. The witcher waits until Ciri knocks a pattern, opening the door as soon as she is done. Following the girl, Geralt walks into the room and spots the mage easily. “Yennefer,” he greets with a nod of his head. 

“Happy to see you back in one piece,” Yennefer responds as she looks Geralt over. “The other one with you though...” Her voice trails off as she looks Jaskier over. Even with him bundled in Geralt’s cloak, he knows she can tell just how bad he really is. 

“Are you able to portal us?” he asks with no preamble. “The sooner I can get him back to the keep-”

“The better, yes I can see.” Yennefer cuts in already making her way across the room. 

When she gets close enough, she pulls the hood back on the cloak and looks at the bard from close up. “What did they...”

“Don’t ask,” Geralt growls. It’s not something he feels like reliving right now, especially not in front of Ciri. It will take him a long time to process everything and he knows there is no way he can deal with it at the moment. 

Yennefer only runs a hand through Jaskier’s hair softly, fingers barely skimming the strands. Geralt shifts his weight, doing his best to not stare at the younger man and finds his eyes roving around the room instead. They land on Ciri who has positioned herself next to the window where Geralt notices she can see the whole room. A small bit of pride flows through him at the sight before a sound from Yennefer draws his attention again. 

“Alright, let’s head outside and get this portal business over with,” Yennefer states, twirling away immediately. 

Ciri slides away from the window, picking up a bag that is setting near the bed. She brings it over towards Geralt, hefting it his way. “The rest of your stuff! We kept a close on eye on it,” she tells him with another smile. 

“Thank you, Ciri,” Geralt murmurs, returning her smile the best he can. “Bring it out for me?”

Nodding, Ciri moves to follow Yennefer with Geralt and Jaskier behind her. It doesn’t take them long to make their way back to Roach; Yennefer gives him a look when she sees how tired the horse is and Geralt can’t help but duck his head. “She’ll get plenty of rest once we’re back at the keep,” is all he can say. He’s pushed the mare hard, but he will make it up to her with some much needed time off. Winter is on it’s way and once he makes it to Kaer Morhen, he doesn’t plan on leaving until spring unless he absolutely has to. 

As the two of them stand there eyeballing the horse, Ciri moves around them and starts to reload his bags for him, knowing where he usually keeps everything. Geralt doesn’t bother double checking it, trusting the girl to remember everything, as he moves to sit Jaskier back on top of Roach. Yennefer holds the bard in place as he climbs back behind him, securing him in place once again. 

“I’m sorry to leave again already,” Geralt tells Ciri as she moves in front of Roach to look up at him. 

Ciri shakes her head. “It’s alright; Yennefer will bring me up to the pass in a couple of weeks anyways, so I’ll see you then.” 

Humming, Geralt knows she is right. There’s no way he could stand to not have her around for the winter, nor could the rest of the witcher’s. “Of course,” he whispers as he reaches out and ruffles her hair, earning himself a giggle.

“Time to go,” Yennefer calls out, untying Roach. Geralt nods and nudges Roach forward so she will follow the sorceress around the back of the tavern where they’ll be out of sight. The less people that see them creating a portal, the better. 

Geralt takes the reins back once they are handed to him, getting ready to hold Roach steady as Yennefer takes her place. While this mare doesn’t mind them all that much, it always startles the horse for a few seconds before she settles enough to realize she won’t be hurt. Taking a deep breath, Geralt waits, knowing the hardest part of the journey is almost behind him. While the pass isn’t the easiest trail to manage, it’s one he’s familiar with, even with a sleeping bard in front of him. 

“Stay safe,” Yennefer calls out to him, waiting for his nod before she finally opens the portal. Geralt can tell instantly how close she’s gotten him to the wards and his chest swells with appreciation at the sight. 

“See you both soon,” Geralt states before he gets Roach to walk on, leading them through to the mountains. As soon as they are safely on the other side and before Geralt can turn to take one last look at the both, the portal closes behind him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love comments and try my best to respond to them all! Hope you enjoyed this update!


	3. Chapter 3

Even with how close Yennefer gets the trio to the wards, it still takes Geralt two days to get them through the pass. While winter is just now setting in for most of the world, it has already wrapped a hand around the keep, burying it in snow up to Geralt’s calves. Pushing on as fast as he dares, Geralt gets them through it, making it to the entrance of Kaer Morhen on the morning of the third day.

Looking up, the witcher notices a figure ahead of them, black clothes standing out starkly against the white snowy mountains. A hand waves at him and Geralt slows Roach once he’s within normal speaking distance. “You’re back early!”

“Looks like you are as well, Eskel,” Geralt calls back, a smile stretching on his lips. He’s exhausted, knows Roach is as well, but he feels lighter seeing his fellow witcher in front of him. “Walk and talk?”

Eskel nods at him, waiting for the slow walking horse to catch up before turning and leading the way to the keep. “What’s the bundle you’ve got with you?” Eskel asks softly, keeping as much curiosity out of his voice as possible.

Unable to help himself, Geralt looks down at Jaskier. The bard is still sleeping, bundled as tightly as Geralt could get him to keep him warm. Between his own body heat and the warmth Roach radiates below them, Jaskier has managed to stay fairly warm. “An old friend,” Geralt answers after another moment.

“Is he hurt?” Eskel replies.

Knowing his brother would be able to smell it if Jaskier was injured, Geralt grunts. “In a way,” he replies. “It’s a long story and I’ll need Vesemir’s help.”

Eskel nods. “Good thing he knows you’re coming; sensed you crossing the wards. He was worried because of how early you are and is waiting for you.”

The pair settles into silence as they reach the mouth of the keep. Geralt stops Roach and Eskel reaches out for the reins before he can even say anything. “I’ll take care of her for you, get your friend checked over.”

Thanking him silently, Geralt slides off of Roach while Eskel reaches out to hold Jaskier in place. Lifting the saddle bags off of Roach, Geralt slings them over his shoulder before he pulls Jaskier into his arms, cradling him against his chest. Wasting no time, Geralt heads inside with one last look at his tired horse, hurrying as fast as he can for his usual room.

There’s a fire already roaring in the spacious fireplace, blasting warm air at him as soon as he shoulders the door open. Geralt settles Jaskier on top of the bed once he drops the saddle bags, moving to remove the cold and wet clothes as quickly as he can before he lays Jaskier under a thick blanket that will keep him warm enough. Taking a moment to let himself relax, Geralt runs his hand through the mess of thick brown hair. Before he can do much else, he senses a presence coming near the room and turns as Vesemir comes into view.

“Hope the pass wasn’t too rough yet,” the elder witcher says in greeting. “Can’t have been easy with the extra load.”

Geralt watches Vesemir’s face as the older man takes in everything he can about Jaskier. “I need to wake him soon,” he mumbles, hating what it’s going to mean. He knows he can’t keep him asleep for much longer, not without threatening his life.

“We’ve talked about this, Geralt,” Vesemir starts, leveling a glare at the white haired witcher. “Somne-”

“He consented,” Geralt cuts in.

Vesemir sighs. “Alright, tell me why you brought him here,” the man says, changing the topic.

Geralt tells him everything he knows as quickly as he can. It doesn’t take him long, but when he gets to the part of the story where he has to explain the state Jaskier is in, Vesemir’s face hardens. “So he’s drugged?”

“In a way, yes,” Geralt replies. “It’s a new potion that someone has created so their sick and twisted desires can become reality.”

“What are the effects of it?” Vesemir asks and Geralt feels his face harden as he explains the effects the best he can. “How did he consent then if he’s drugged?”

Realizing Vesemir has gone back to the discussion of the use of Somne, Geralt closes his eyes before answering. “He’s lucid, Vesemir.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounds thicker than I was a moment ago, the words dropping like weights between them. “He’s aware of what’s going on to him, of everything that’s happening to him.”

The look on Vesemir’s face says it all once Geralt opens his eyes again. “Fucking bastards,” the older man spits. A strange silence falls across them both. “How long has he been asleep?”

“It’s only been a couple of days. I promised I would wake him up once I got him somewhere safe,” Geralt sighs. Taking a deep breath, Geralt knows there is no point in waiting any longer. Geralt makes the sign to reverse Somne and both witchers wait as the effects slowly wear off.

As Jaskier starts to come to, blue eyes blink slowly as the bard gets his bearings. Jaskier looks around the room slowly before he turns his eyes onto Geralt, a small smile stretching across his face. “Geralt...” Jaskier whispers, reaching out a hand.

Geralt wastes no time moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “Hey,” he says, keeping his eyes on the blue ones in front of him.

“Based on the decor,” Jaskier starts, looking around again a little. “I t-take it we m-made it.”

Geralt chuckles at the words even as he holds back a cringe. Jaskier hasn’t been awake more than five minutes and the stutter is already back in his words. Vesemir hums behind him and Geralt watches as Jaskier looks behind him. “Hope it’s up to your standards,” the older witcher states and Geralt can hear the smile in the words. His chest warms at the sound, grateful that he’s no longer alone with all of this.

“It’s p-perfect,” Jaskier replies. As he speaks, Geralt feels a hand latch onto his, squeezing it tightly, the only other sign the bard gives as to what’s going on. “You m-must be V-vesemir! Geralt has t-told me so much about you.”

“Hello, Jaskier,” Vesemir responds, moving closer to the bed. “I just hope the pup told you good things.”

“Of c-course,” Jaskier chuckles. Geralt can see the pain that’s building behind the blue eyes, can see the clouds coming back, but before he can say anything, Jaskier moves to curl on his side.

Geralt takes a deep breath, hating what’s coming next. Before he can say anything though, Jaskier’s breathing picks up, fast enough to be noticeable. “Jaskier?” Vesemir asks behind Geralt.

“W-well that didn’t t-take long...” the bard answers, eyes shut tightly.

“I’ve got you, Jaskier,” Geralt says immediately, running his free hand over Jaskier’s arm. It doesn’t take long for the effects to run their course, leaving Jaskier panting hard. When the first high pitched whine makes itself known, Geralt feels something in his chest break at the sound.

“What can we do to help?” Vesemir whispers and Geralt can feel the horror that’s just behind those words.

Jaskier has been reduced to shudders at this point, his entire body shaking and tense. “P-please...” Jaskier whimpers as Geralt starts to rub small circles against the bard’s back.

Geralt doesn’t know how to answer his mentor, doesn’t know how to tell the man there is no helping Jaskier. The potion still has another ten days, minimum, as far as he knows, and even that knowledge is only based off of rumors. They have to just let it run it’s course at this point, but when another whine is ripped from Jaskier’s throat, Geralt almost has to look away. “We can’t,” he finally manages to whisper.

The two witchers pretend to not notice when Jaskier finally reaches for himself, do everything they can to block out the sounds Jaskier makes. After a moment, Geralt pretends to not hear when Vesemir sneaks out of the room, keeping all of his focus on his bard. “It’s just us, Jask,” he manages to say, moving to run his hand through Jaskier’s hair.

Jaskier tenses only a moment later before crying out, entire body shuddering through his orgasm. Geralt finds himself whispering to the bard the entire time, reminding him he’s here, that he hasn’t left his side. As Jaskier starts to come down, blue eyes open slowly. Some of the cloudiness has receded, just enough for Geralt to see some of the light he’s so used to seeing in them. “I’ve got you,” Geralt murmurs before he tries to pull away, wanting to look for something to help clean Jaskier up with.

Before he can get free of Jaskier’s grip though, a whimper catches his attention and he looks back down again. “Geralt, I...” Jaskier whispers as he stares at the wall in front of him. “I just... could you...”

Unable to continue watching the bard stumble over his words, Geralt stays seated on the bed and pulls off the wettest of his clothes, using one of his shirts to clean the bars as gently as he can. When he’s as dry as he possibly can be, he crawls onto the bed, settling in behind the bard under the blankets. Jaskier immediately presses back against him and Geralt wraps an arm around him, holding him close. “Thank you,” Jaskier whispers.

Geralt loses track of time, not knowing how long they lay there. Worries flow through him, ones he knows that need to be addressed, but for the time being, all of his focus is on the bard in front of him. As he shoves those worries to the side, Geralt notices how calm Jaskier’s breathing is and sighs, knowing the bard is going to need as much rest as he can get with everything going on.

Vesemir and Eskel both poke their heads in at some point, leaving behind water and asking if there’s anything else they can do before slipping out again. Geralt only thanks them, unsure of what to even ask for in this situation. Once they’re alone again, Geralt’s thoughts can’t help but turn to the conversation he knows needs to happen. It’s been years since the two men last saw each other and the last words Geralt said to his bard have haunted him ever since.

The weight of those words threaten to pull him down right now, but Geralt reminds himself that it isn’t about him. Shoving those thoughts aside once again, Geralt focuses on the bard still wrapped in his arms who has started shifting in front of him. “Ger...” Jaskier mumbles.

“I’m here,” the witcher answers instantly, needing the bard to know he’s still safe. “How are you feeling?”

Jaskier sighs, the end turning into a soft whine. “Honestly? Terrible,” Jaskier answers with a soft chuckle at the end of his words. “I’m assuming that’s not what you want to hear though.”

Geralt presses his forehead against Jaskier’s back before he answers. “Don’t worry about that, Jaskier,” he whispers. “You can tell me whatever you need to. I’d rather you tell me the truth than feel you have to hide anything from me.”

The bard stays silent for a long while and Geralt starts to wonder if he’s said the wrong thing. He starts to try and fix things when Jaskier finally sighs. “I’ll do my best, Geralt. Thank you...”

When they fall quiet this time, the silence is a comfortable one. Geralt relaxes, keeping his head pressed against Jaskier’s back. He wishes he could say later that laying there stayed peaceful, that it stayed calm and quiet. He wants to be able to say that Jaskier’s body held the potion off for just a few more hours, but he’s learned that destiny is never kind to him.

It doesn’t take long before Jaskier is whining once again, pressing back against Geralt even as he tries to curl away. The witcher relaxes his hold, just enough to give Jaskier a real decision, but the bard whimpers at the feeling. “D-don’t...”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Geralt tells him, voice low.

This time, it doesn’t take long for Jaskier’s body to work itself up. When Geralt realizes the bard is holding off, he unwraps his arm from around Jaskier and moves to take a slim hand in his own, pulling it away from where it is holding the sheets in a death grip. “Let me help.”

Jaskier keens at his words and quickly moves their combined hands back down to rock against them. “G-ger...” the bard whimpers and Geralt can hear the tears behind the words even if he can’t bring himself to look for them.

“I’ve got you,” Geralt murmurs. “Let go for me.”

Jaskier’s breath hitches as Geralt finishes speaking and a cry follows right after. Entire body shaking, Jaskier’s hand stutters and Geralt does his best to help him keep going as he finishes once again. As soon as the bard’s body slumps, Geralt wraps both of his arms around him once again, holding him close as the tears finally flow freely.

“I c-can’t....” Jaskier squeezes out between harsh breaths. “I can’t keep d-doing this...”

“I know, Jask,” Geralt replies. “You’re hanging on so well though. We’ll get you through this.”

Jaskier takes a shuddering breath, a sob sticking in his throat. “I... G-geralt...”

Geralt finds himself repeating his words, needing the bard to know that he won’t let him fail. They will get through this, he knows they will, even if it isn’t going to be easy. It takes a long while, but Jaskier’s breathing finally slows down again and Geralt feels something in him relax. “Let’s get you some water,” Geralt says once Jaskier has calmed completely, concerned when he realizes he can’t remember the last time the bard ate or drank anything.

Jaskier nods against him and Geralt starts to pull away, helping Jaskier sit up against the headboard. Climbing out of bed, Geralt heads for the water that was left behind for them earlier and pours Jaskier a glass. Handing it over, he watches until Jaskier starts to drink it and feels better. “Are you hungry?” he asks as he pours his own glass. He’s able to go longer than he cares to admit without eating thanks to his mutations, but the fact remains it’s been longer than it should have been for both of them.

Keeping his eyes trained on Jaskier, Geralt sees the moment the bard looks away. “I’m not all that hungry, to be honest.”

Geralt takes a sip of his own water, trying to find his words. “When was the last time you ate?” he asks, keeping his voice neutral.

“I can’t remember,” Jaskier answers and Geralt can hear the honesty behind the words. “Feeding me wasn’t usually on everyone’s top list of priorities, unfortunately.”

Geralt hears the growl slip out before he can stop it when Jaskier mentions his captors, but the bard never once flinches at the sound. “We should get some food into you then,” Geralt responds after he gets his voice under control. “I don’t know if you’ve seen yourself lately, but-”

“I can’t, Geralt,” Jaskier cuts in, still refusing to look at Geralt.

“Jaskier,” Geralt starts again, setting his cup down and moving towards the bed once more.

“Geralt.”

Something in the bard’s tone makes Geralt stop as blue eyes finally look up to him. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about the potion...” Jaskier starts, voice trailing off as glazed look comes over his face. “I literally cannot eat after I’ve been...dosed...”

Water starts to fill Jaskier’s eyes and Geralt has to force himself to relax even as another wave of rage washes over him. Reaching out for the cup in Jaskier’s hand, he fills it again before handing it back over. “How have you survived this long?” Geralt asks softly as he sits on the edge of the bed, keeping his anger pushed down.

With the cup in his hands, Jaskier stares down at the water without taking a sip. “I...”

“Geralt?” A knock on the door draws both of the men’s attention, Eskel’s voice carrying through the room. They both turn and look as the other witcher locks eyes with Geralt. “Everything good?”

Geralt nods. “Thank you for the water,” he replies.

“Yeah, of course,” Eskel says as he enters the room. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Geralt turns to look at Jaskier over his shoulder, waiting. The bard only shakes his head though and Geralt turns back to Eskel. “If Jaskier is alright with it, could you sit here with him for a bit?”

Eskel nods his head. “Yeah of course, we just made dinner if you want to grab something.”

Geralt hums before he turns back to Jaskier. “He won’t harm you,” Geralt starts and Jaskier only gives him a smile in response.

“Oh, I don’t think he would,” Jaskier states, sending a smile to Eskel as well. “Go stretch your legs, get some food. I’ll be right here.”

Reaching out, Geralt brushes a lock of hair out of Jaskier’s face, pushing down the fear that rises in him instantly. His brother will take care of the bard, will keep him safe and calm. He knows this, but even the thought of leaving his bard’s side has a strange feeling settling in his stomach. “I’ll be back soon,” he whispers, voice low even though he knows Eskel will still be able to hear him.

Pulling away before he lets the feeling consume him, Geralt stands and heads over to Eskel, stopping to pull on a shirt he grabs as he does. “Keep him safe,” he rumbles as sets a heavy hand on Eskel’s shoulder.

“You know I will,” Eskel tells him with a soft smile tugging at his scarred lips. “Go.”

The white haired witcher slips out of the room before he can change his mind, ears trained on the sound of talking behind him that starts up again as soon as he leaves. As the voices fade, Geralt feels a little lighter, knowing the two will get along just fine while he’s gone. Traveling the worn paths through the keep, Geralt makes his way to the dining area. He wants to get back as soon as he can, but he knows he’s going to need to take breaks during all of this as well.

When he finally makes it to the dining area, the promise of food has his stomach rumbling and Geralt realizes just how hungry he really is. It’s been days since he last had a real meal, not eating much while he got them through the pass. There wasn’t enough time to stop and cook a decent meal. Rounding the corner, Geralt smiles when he sees the pile of food left on one of the tables.

Settling in, Geralt starts to fill the empty plate that’s sitting at his usual spot. Forcing himself to eat it slowly, Geralt savors the taste and tries to push down the guilt that’s starting to build within him. Just as it starts to affect him, Geralt hears footsteps behind him and resists the urge to look up when Vesemir sits down across from him.

“How is he?” the older man asks after the silence between them stretches on for too long.

Chewing, Geralt sighs. “Not great,” he answers after swallowing. “It’s all so...”

“Yeah,” Vesemir replies with his own sigh. Finishing his meal, Geralt pushes the plate aside and leans back in his chair, finally allowing himself to look up at his father figure. “Is this the same bard you’ve talked about for so long?”

Geralt huffs a laugh, knowing this question was going to come up eventually. “Hmm..” he hums, knowing Vesemir will be able to read him.

“Always did like those songs.” Geralt can’t help but chuckle again. “How long have you known each other?”

Vesemir’s words make Geralt pause, his brain coming to a screeching halt. Mind racing, Geralt tries to remember just how long it has actually been. Pulling his eyes away from the ones in front of him, he goes back through the last few years of his life, trying to piece everything together. “I haven’t seen him in ten years,” he finally whispers once he has put at least that much together. “He doesn’t look a day older than the last time I saw him...”

A thick silence settles over the two men as Geralt continues to back track. “I left him on the mountain, after the dragon incident,” Geralt finally mumbles, his voice loud to even his own ears. “We always used to run into each other every year before that, meeting up...”

“How long has it been though,” Vesemir prompts nudging Geralt on, something in his tone making Geralt’s heart beat just that much faster 

He has an answer, knows how long it has been, how long they traveled. Knows how many years he’s had to listen to people call Jaskier names, how many years he’s listened to the bard’s songs. Lifting his head, Geralt locks eyes with Vesemir and the older witcher must see the jumble of emotions he’s feeling behind his eyes because he doesn’t ask again.

“I take it you don’t know what he is then,” Vesemir says and Geralt can only shake his head.

“I thought he was human all this time,” Geralt mumbles. “He’s never given me any reason to think otherwise. Eats, fucks, gets hurt all the same.”

“Hmm...” A myriad of thoughts passes behind Vesemir’s eyes and Geralt finds his own thoughts racing as he tries to think of something as well. “Maybe if he’s a half human. Could have taken more after the human side of things and only gotten a little of whatever else he is mixed with.”

Geralt nods. “That could explain things,” he ponders, running a hand through his hair. The action only draws his attention to how filthy he is and he grimaces, planning a bath for him and the bard as soon as possible. It’s that thought that makes him realize he doesn’t care; Jaskier could be mixed with anything, but at the end of the day, he still cares for him and nothing will change that fact.

“Personally, it doesn’t matter to me,” Vesemir states, leaning back and crossing his arms. “He could be part satyr for all I care. He’s obviously done wonders for your reputation and you wouldn’t have brought just anyone here. Ciri taught us all that.”

“We still need to figure it out though, don’t we,” Geralt tacks on.

Vesemir nods. “Anything I do to help him could be affected by whatever mix he has in his blood. If I give him something that’s harmful to whatever he’s part, it will only make things worse in the end.”

Geralt hums, Vesemir’s words making sense. Just because something’s fine to use on humans, did not mean it was always safe to use on a different creature. “It could also answer why he’s still alive after basically being starved,” Geralt adds.

“I was wondering about that as well,” Vesemir says, tilting his head. “Poor thing is skin and bones, isn’t he.”

“Jaskier said the potion they give him makes him unable to eat,” Geralt explains, echoing Jaskier’s words. “Apparently, it just makes him sicker. Even when he wasn’t dosed, they didn’t give him much to eat, by the sounds of it.”

Vesemir looks off into the distance for a moment, eyes trailing away as he thinks. “Do you think a clear broth would work? We could get some calories in him while not giving him anything solid that might trigger the potion.”

“Can’t hurt to try,” Geralt responds after he’s had time to think it over himself as well. Before the two witchers have time to think on it more, Geralt’s ears prick as he hears his name being shouted from the direction of his room.

Without even thinking about it, Geralt bolts from the table, racing down the hallways. He can hear Vesemir right behind him, but Geralt doesn’t care, his entire focus trained on the sound of his name being called once again. Rounding the corner, Geralt sees Eskel standing in the doorway and as Geralt passes him, the other witcher tries to talk to him: “He was fine and then he was-”

“P-please...!” Jaskier cries out, voice pitched higher than Geralt has heard it yet.

He reaches the side of the bed in only a few steps, grabbing onto the hand that is pulling desperately at brown hair. He gently pries the fingers away, ignoring the amount of hair that comes away with them as he starts to talk. “I’m here, I’m back,” Geralt murmurs, cradling the bard’s face with his free hand.

“It-t hurts,” Jaskier pants, tears streaming down his face. “Everyt-thing...”

“Hey, look at me,” Geralt says, running his thumb back and forth over smooth skin. “Come on, show me those eyes.”

Jaskier whines, his head throwing back against a pillow and Geralt feels his heart burning in his chest at the sight of the pain that pulls at Jaskier’s face. He repeats himself until his words sink in, until cloudy eyes finally look at him and Geralt breathes a little easier. “G-Ger...”

“Right here,” Geralt whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Even as Jaskier tries to focus, his body betrays him, everything in him shuddering and tightening in spasms. Geralt knows what needs to be done, knows what Jaskier needs, but he can’t bring himself to do it for the bard. He knows the other man is lucid, knows that all he would have to do is ask, but he can’t. Instead, he moves his hand so he can thread his fingers through soft hair, pulling on it gently in order to keep Jaskier’s attention on him. He squeezes the hand he is still clasping, drawing the bard’s attention there and it isn’t long before Jaskier is acting on it.

Footsteps behind Geralt let him know that the other two men have left, most likely after Eskel and Vesemir realize what is about to happen. Growling low in his throat, Geralt has to push aside the idea that they where here for as long as they were, that they saw Jaskier this vulnerable in the first place. Words continue to fall from his lips, keeping up a constant whisper that he hopes is making it’s way to the man below him even as their joined hands start to slide over red and swollen skin.

It doesn’t take long before Jaskier is crying harder, voice breaking on screams that have Geralt wanting to race across the lands until he has gotten rid of everyone who has had a hand in all of this. As soon as Jaskier gives him his hand back, Geralt pulls him closer, holding his shaking body against his chest. After a few moments, thin arms wrap around him, clinging as best as they can to his shirt.

The witcher loses track of time, unsure of how long they stay like that. Eventually though, Jaskier starts to pull away from Geralt and he lets him, keeping a arm around him to help support in whatever way is needed. “Are you...?” Geralt starts, words falling off as blue eyes latch onto his own golden ones.

Jaskier only continues to look at him, face drained of so much and Geralt wishes he knew what to do to fix all of this. As they stare at each other, Jaskier’s lips pull into the smallest of smiles, a mere echo of the ones Geralt has seem him flash before. “You’re here,” he says, voice still thick with tears.

“I’m here,” Geralt replies, moving to wipe the rest of the tears from Jaskier’s face.

Time passes slowly as Jaskier leans his head on Geralt’s shoulder, using the witcher to support himself. Geralt only settles further as he starts to pick up sounds outside of the room once again. “Can Vesemir and Eskel come back?” he asks, not wanting to do anything Jaskier won’t be comfortable with.

Jaskier nods almost immediately though and Geralt raises his voice a little, calling out to the other two men. The smell of something salty reaches his nose before the two ever reach the bed and Geralt is reminded of the conversation he had earlier with Vesemir about trying to get Jaskier to eat some broth. Nudging Jaskier slightly, Geralt moves further up onto the bed and settles in a place that lets Jaskier continue to lean on him while also giving him a view of what’s going on.

“Geralt told me you aren’t able to stomach food right now,” Vesemir starts. “We were wondering though if you wanted to try some broth at least. It’s almost completely clear, but it might be able to help keep you strong.”

Jaskier sighs and Geralt almost interrupts Vesemir, but the bard starts talking before he can manage. “We can try it,” Jaskier says and some part of him must know that the witcher’s can hear how defeated he feels behind the words. “At least, it isn’t something I’ve tried eating while drugged before anyways.”

Eskel moves closer to the bed with a bowl in his hand and Geralt takes it from him when it’s held out. “Let me know if you need anything else,” the man says before giving Jaskier a sad smile. He leaves without another word. Geralt watches him go for a moment before he lifts the bowl to Jaskier, helping the man guide the edge to his lips to take a sip.

“Mmmm...” Jaskier moans softly as he sips and Geralt feels warmer, a feeling of hope going through him at the sound. The bard drinks as much as he can, laying his head back down when he needs a break, and Geralt moves to put the bowl on the bedside table. “Thank you,” is all he says as his eyes start to close.

Geralt wonders how long it will be before they see any possible side effects, but he tries to not dwell on it for too long. Before Jaskier can fall completely asleep though, Geralt nudges him gently once more. “Are you up for a question or two?”

Vesemir clears his throat, ready to wave Geralt off, but Geralt turns his eyes on him before he can. An entire conversation passes between them without anything being said out loud as Jaskier shifts against him. “I’ll do my best,” Jaskier answers, unaware of what’s going on between the two men.

Weight shifting, Vesemir takes a deep breath before his eyes move to Jaskier’s. “Geralt and I were talking and...” the older man’s words trail off and Geralt knows that there’s no easy way to ask this.

Taking over, Geralt rubs small circles against Jaskier’s back as the words start to fall from his lips. “Jaskier, are you fully human?”

The words fall heavily into the room, a weighted silence following them. Jaskier stiffens against his side and Geralt waits patiently, knowing the answer already. A few heartbeats pass before Jaskier takes a deep breath. “I.... I always m-meant to t-tell you,” he stutters out, voice breaking the words.

The smell of fear floats up from the smaller man and Geralt pulls the bard closer. “I’m not mad, Jask,” he rumbles out, needing his friend to understand that nothing could make him mad right now. If anyone should be mad, it’s Jaskier, who has every right to be for so many reasons.

“I n-never got to m-meet her, but...” Jaskier starts to continue. “My m-mother was an... elf...”

Vesemir sucks in a quiet breath next to the bed, but Geralt spares him the glare as his mind lets the words click into place, instantly explaining so many things for him. “Your singing...”

“I g-got that from her...” Jaskier says. “That and the ability t-to age slowly. Only good things she ever g-gave me though, since she l-left right after I was b-born.”

Geralt hums, mind wrapping around the new information quickly. It will take him time to process it all fully, but he knows that it can wait for now. Jaskier is shaking again and Geralt does what he can to comfort the smaller man. “It’s why you haven’t died from lack of nutrition yet,” he finally explains, needing Jaskier to know that his mother gave him more than he thinks.

“There’s a chance it’s also why...” Vesemir starts, but his words only slip away and Geralt tilts his head at him.

“Why the p-potion lasts for so l-long, right?” Jaskier asks, looking back up at the older man.

When Vesemir doesn’t answer, Geralt can feel Jaskier’s breath huff against his neck as the bard’s head settles on his shoulder once more. “Well, I guess you know m-my secret now,” Jaskier whispers.

“Doesn’t change anything,” Geralt states, doing everything he can to comfort his bard the best he can. “If talking about it makes you feel better though, we can of course, but nothing changes.”

Something in Jaskier relaxes again at his words and Geralt leans his head down until he can nuzzle against brown hair. “Thank you,” Jaskier whispers and Geralt catches the sounds of Vesemir sneaking out of the room.

They can come up with a game plan later, can figure out what they need to do in the light of day. It’s only as Geralt looks around the room one last time that he notices just how late it actually is. The fireplace is the only thing that gives the room any light and Geralt takes a moment to settle back down lower onto the bed. Pulling Jaskier down with him, Geralt waits for the bard to arrange himself before he moves to hold him again.

“We’ll make it through this,” the witcher finds himself saying out loud. Jaskier sighs and Geralt starts talking again before Jaskier can say anything. “We will and then we can talk all you want. I know there’s a lot to say on both sides and I can promise you, we’ll talk about all of it if that’s what you want.”

As Geralt talks, he can feel Jaskier relaxing. Breathing evens out next to him and after a few more moments, he knows Jaskier is asleep once again, exhaustion finally taking him over for the night. Unsure of how long it will last, Geralt tries to figure out some sort of plan as he lays there. He knows there is no way to ensure everything will work out perfectly, but part of him feels better just having any idea of what he can do to make this better. Closing his eyes, Geralt finally lets sleep take him, keeping all of his senses trained on the man next to him even as he drifts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier's secret is out in the open now. How will this affect their relationship going forward?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed my user. Used to be milla_gsd in case anyone is confused!

The next few days pass in a blur for Geralt. He quickly finds himself in a loop, living each day based on Jaskier’s needs and how the potion affects him. While he would like to think some days are easier than others, he knows it isn’t true. After every attack, Jaskier looks more drained and it’s all the witcher can do to comfort the bard any way he can. 

The other witcher’s at the keep help however they can; Eskel stops by whenever he can, taking time to sit and talk with Jaskier. Geralt is thankful for those times as he watches his bard’s eyes light up at the stories being told, chasing some of the cloudiness away. Whenever it becomes obvious Jaskier is about to have another attack, Eskel always finds a way to excuse himself or quickly finds Geralt if the other man has gone off to go get food. Lambert soon adds on to the stories, reaching the keep only a day after Geralt. After being filled in, the loudest of the witcher’s soon has the bard chuckling softly with his own stories. 

Vesemir does his best to help Jaskier in other ways. At first, the elder tried to find a way to combat the effects of the potion, but with no way of knowing what exactly it was even made out of, Geralt knows there isn’t anyway to stop it. After the second failed attempt left Jaskier sick for hours, Geralt asked Vesemir to put it to a rest, trying his best to be gently about it. Instead, Vesemir has put his efforts into trying to keep Jaskier healthy; there seems to always be a pot of broth cooking all day long in the kitchens now. 

Geralt is forever grateful for the help, unsure of what he would do without it. When they aren’t being entertained by one of he other men, Geralt finds himself just holding Jaskier. He knows they still have much to talk about, but he can never find the words. He finds himself talking to Jaskier about the past decade. He tells him about the monsters he has faced, where he was during the fall of Cintra, and goes over as many stories of Ciri as he can. Never once does he miss the moments when Jaskier relaxes against him, settles down with his head on the witcher’s chest. Never misses the times that Jaskier almost seems like himself as Geralt talks and he does his best to savor each of them. 

The potion always reminds him just how quickly the feeling of calm can be ripped away from them. 

Unpredictable and random, the potion acts up whenever it feels like. Sometimes, hours pass between bouts, others, it feels like only minutes have passed before Jaskier is writhing in Geralt’s arms again. He reassures the bard the best he can, reminds him as often as possible that he isn’t alone in this. Jaskier holds on the best that he can, but Geralt can’t fight back the worry he feels as he watches the bard struggle everyday. Reminding himself there’s no fixing this, Geralt only holds Jaskier tighter, tries his best to help however he can, and fights past the fears he can’t completely ignore. 

It’s after one particularly bad attack that leaves Jaskier shaking that Geralt finds himself coaxing the bard out of bed finally, needing to do something more to help. He had managed to sneak away once at this point, finding time to clean the dirt out of his hair and scrub himself as quickly as possible, but he had yet to get Jaskier down to the baths. The bard is exhausted and even getting him to sip on the broth brought to him was a challenge. Geralt knows he needs something to help him relax though, and has to push down the feeling of hope that rises when Jaskier finally agrees. 

“Hope you’re not trying to say I stink, Geralt,” Jaskier whines playfully as the larger man wraps Jaskier in a blanket. Geralt only hums noncommittally, secretly happy to see that some of Jaskier’s sarcasm is back, even if only for the moment. “A bath does sound heavenly, I have to admit.”

“Hot springs,” Geralt starts, knowing that the question has to be on the bard’s mind. “There’s one that runs underneath the main floor in the keep. Keeps it fairly warm in certain areas year round.”

Once Jaskier is bundled, Geralt easily picks the bard up and looks down at him, waiting for a small nod before they leave the room. Jaskier starts talking about hot springs as they walk, explaining how he’s always heard of them, but that he had never found the time to actually go visit one. “Guess it doesn’t help I never really go anywhere during the winter. Hot springs and summer don’t sound like they mix very well.”

“Good for muscles though,” Geralt tacks on, thinking back to days of soaking after having his ass handed to him during training. 

“Oh that does make sense,” Jaskier mumbles. 

Geralt only chuckles as he finally reaches the stairs, carrying Jaskier down carefully. The stairs have always been dark, but Geralt knows the worn path well and has no issues getting them both down. As they reach the end of the stairs, Jaskier gasps in his arms and Geralt watches him as he looks around the now open room. It’s nothing like a hot spring would look like if it was above ground and enclosed by mountains, but the space is still a sight to behold. Steam floats in the air, covering the rocks in water so they shine and reflect the light that makes it way in through a massive hole in the far wall. Several pools are scattered throughout the space and as Geralt makes his way over the one he uses most frequently, he’s happy to see the rest of the pools are empty. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Jaskier whispers as he continues to look around. “All of this, hiding under a mountain that’s lived in by surly men with strange traditions.”

Geralt chuckles at the bard’s words. “Don’t let Lambert hear you call him surly,” he says as he sets Jaskier down near the edge of the pool they have finally reached. It’s close to the hole, allowing Jaskier a glimpse of blue skies and fresh air, something Geralt always felt pulled towards whenever he came down here. 

Looking at Jaskier, he waits for a nod before he starts to slip Jaskier’s clothes off of him, doing everything he can to ignore how small the bard looks. The witcher’s had scrounged up the softest clothes they could possibly find within the keep, but Geralt knows even these are too rough against Jaskier’s skin. The effects of the potion were playing havoc with all of the bard’s senses, but none were affected as much as touch for him, making him hypersensitive to everything. 

Checking around them, Geralt makes sure all of the supplies he brought down earlier are within reach once they get in the water and then sets himself to stripping of his clothes. Looking over at Jaskier as he works, Geralt is happy to see a content look covering the bard’s face as he leans against a rock, still not strong enough to hold himself up. Blue eyes sparkle as they continue to take in the sights and a blush creeps across pale cheeks that are still too thin when those eyes land on Geralt again. 

“Ready?” Geralt asks as he nears Jaskier’s side again, devoid of all of his clothes. 

Jaskier looks at him for a moment before finally nodding, moving one arm out from under the blanket to take hold of Geralt’s hand. The witcher gathers the bard into his arms once more, leaving the blanket on the ground as he presses Jaskier close to his chest. Taking a few steps, Geralt slowly lowers the two of them into the warm water, giving Jaskier as much time as he needs to adjust to the stark contrast with the cold air. 

“Oooh, Melitele,” Jaskier groans once they are fully settled in the water. 

Geralt hums, sitting on the ledge in the pool and leaning back against the rock. He arranges Jaskier to the bard can lean back against his chest, a sigh escaping his friend as the witcher wraps an arm around his middle. It doesn’t take long for Jaskier to settle between Geralt’s legs and Geralt finds himself relaxing at the feeling, Jaskier slowly melting in front of him. 

“Yeah, this is definitely something I should have let you talk me into sooner,” Jaskier whispers as his head falls back, landing against Geralt’s shoulder. “I can’t remember the last time I had a bath that was actually warm. This feels absolutely divine, Geralt.”

As Jaskier relaxes, Geralt allows his mind to drift, taking time to let his guard down for the first time in a very long time. He quickly realizes he can’t remember the last time he felt this calm, even with all of the worries swirling around him. Something about the bard’s weight in his lap reminds Geralt of simpler times, back when things between them were easy as they traveled. As the memories flood over him, Geralt thinks of how easily his lost it all, but before he can think on it for too long, Jaskier stirs beneath him. 

“Geralt...” hi whimpers and the witcher tightens his hold instantly, trying to give as much comfort as he can as soon as possible. “Seems I’m n-not safe here either...”

Geralt can hear the pained chuckle being forced behind the words and lets a growl escape before he can stop it. “You’re safe here, Jaskier,” he says as he leans forward, resting his chin on Jaskier’s shoulder. “Well ride it out here, then we can scrub it all away.”

Jaskier doesn’t respond, makes no sign he’s ever heard the witcher, but Geralt knows he’s listening. The wave hits quickly, leaving Jaskier panting harshly, whining as he squirms in Geralt’s hold. He had finally explained the feeling to Geralt earlier in the day and Geralt can’t help but remember those words as he murmurs against Jaskier. As Jaskier presses into his hold, Geralt goes over how the bard told him that his skin feels like it’s crawling and on fire simultaneously. How every touch was both relief and painful at the same time, yet not being touched was like being without air. 

As the memory washes over him, Geralt wraps his other arm around Jaskier, hand splaying low over the bard’s stomach as his other grips tightly to the thin chest that’s heaving underneath his hold. Jaskier’s whines grow in intensity and Geralt has to ignore the stirring in his own cock as Jaskier finally moves to grab his own in a shaking hand. Closing his eyes, Geralt blocks out the sight of tears streaming down Jaskier’s face. 

“P-please...” Jaskier cries out as his hand stutters, unable to help himself finish with how much pain he’s in. Geralt only moves to cover those slim fingers with his own, helping the bard until he cries out again. Jaskier jerks weakly in Geralt’s hold and the witcher fights every instinct down, hating himself for even reacting this way. He tells himself he has no control over it, but it does nothing to stop the shame burning through him as he adjusts himself as he waits for Jaskier. 

Moving his hand away slowly, not wanting to startle the bard, Geralt wraps his arms again around the now shaking man, whispering every encouragement he can think of. It takes longer than it has yet for Jaskier to come back to himself and Geralt feels a new worry building within him. He pushes it aside though, not ready to face it as Jaskier moves in his grip until his side is pressed against Geralt. 

“I’m scared,” the bard whispers as he curls against Geralt’s chest. Geralt watches as one arm wraps around himself while the other moves so Jaskier’s hand is splayed against Geralt’s chest. The words fall heavily between the two of them, the silence that follows only making it worse, but Jaskier doesn’t say any more. 

Geralt only hums, knowing Jaskier will add on more once he finds his words, a task that’s becoming increasingly difficult after each attack. He’s learned to stop trying to rush the bard, knowing it will only make it harder for him in the long run. While it’s no where near as much talking as Geralt is used to from Jaskier, the words always make their way back. As he waits, he runs a hand over Jaskier’s arm, the other wrapping around Jaskier’s middle so he can hold him closer. 

Jaskier sighs, leaning against Geralt even more as the warm water flows around them. “It... It’s getting so much...” Jaskier starts and Geralt realizes he hates how hesitant the bard’s words sound. Geralt only waits though as the man in his arms takes a deep breath before starting again. 

“Each time it... it’s so hard to come b-back...” Jaskier whispers, voice softer than ever. “I... I just... I want to g-give up, Geralt...”

The words hit Geralt hard and he has to fight down the growl he feels building in him at the words. Instead, he moves until he can nuzzle against Jaskier’s head, tucking the bard’s face into the crook of his neck as he tries to block out the world as much as he can for him. “You’ll never have to go through this again,” Geralt tries, wanting to remind Jaskier that once this is over, it’s over for good. 

“I will though,” Jaskier butts in. “For d-days still...”

Geralt takes a deep breath. “You just have to make it through these last few days, Jaskier,” he tries again, needing Jaskier to understand. Even if the bard wants nothing to do with Geralt after all of this, he will never let anyone do this to him again. He’ll kill them all if he has to. 

“I don’t know if I c-can...” Jaskier whimpers, voice cracking. 

Unsure of what to say, Geralt moves his hand from Jaskier’s arm up to thread his fingers through brown strands. The water laps over their chests as they sit there and Geralt pretends to ignore the tears that fall from Jaskier to mix in with the water. “You’re one of the strongest people I know,” Geralt hears himself say, the words falling from him before he can stop to think about them. “If anyone can get through this, it’s you.”

When Jaskier doesn’t reply, Geralt only keeps running his hand through Jaskier’s hair, giving whatever comfort he can. Once he can no longer smell the salt of fresh tears, Geralt pulls his arm away from around Jaskier’s waist to reach for the supplies he left out earlier. Grabbing the nearest container, he brings it closer and lowers it so Jaskier can see it. When Jaskier moves, Geralt hums, a silent question passing from him to the other. 

In answer, Jaskier shifts in his arms until his back is pressed against Geralt’s chest once again, taking the container from Geralt. Putting a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, Geralt pulls himself out of the water to sit on the edge of the pool. He takes the time to guide Jaskier to lean against his legs, leaving himself enough room to work. Once the bard settles, Geralt reaches out to his other side and grabs the cup he left there. Dipping it into the water, he fills it with warm water before moving to shield Jaskier’s eyes as he pours the water over Jaskier’s hair. The bard hums softly as the warm water washes over him, shivering slightly. 

“I think you’ll like this,” Geralt murmurs once he decides Jaskier’s hair is wet enough. Before Jaskier can say anything, Geralt takes the lid off of the container he takes back from Jaskier, letting the smell of Lavender waft around them. 

Pouring some out into his hand, Geralt sets the rest down next to him before he lathers the shampoo and starts working on Jaskier’s hair. When the bard lets out a soft groan, the witcher chuckles as he continues to work. “Had a feeling you might like this,” Geralt says as he starts to scratch against Jaskier’s scalp lightly. 

“Where did you even get this?” Jaskier whispers as another groan slips from him. 

Letting out another soft laugh, Geralt finishes scrubbing and moves to start rinsing the suds out of Jaskier’s hair. “Started buying them for Ciri once I started taking care of her,” he fills in, taking care to keep water from running in the bard’s eyes once again. “She...”

“She’s changed you,” Jaskier says simply when Geralt’s words fall off. “I’m happy to see it.”

Another silence falls over them, one Jaskier does not quite know what to do with; it doesn’t settle comfortably over them, but he also can’t ignore the soft hum coming from Jaskier. Geralt keeps working though and once he thinks all of the shampoo has been rinsed away, he sets the cup down once again. The witcher has more planned, but he hesitates, not knowing where the line is right now. 

Sighing, Jaskier presses further against Geralt’s legs and it brings him back to the moment. Trying not to think about it too much, Geralt moves a hand to start playing with Jaskier’s hair once again, the clean strands sliding much easier now. “Thank you,” Jaskier whispers, breaking the silence. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Geralt replies before he can stop himself. 

“Well, I’m glad to see some things don’t change,” Jaskier quips back instantly. Geralt can’t help but think it almost sounds like the Jaskier that Geralt remembers and something in him breaks at the knowledge. 

Not wanting to ruin anything, Geralt decides to finish the rest of his plans, needing to put his focus back on something else. Nudging Jaskier softly, Geralt helps hold Jaskier up again as he slides back into the water. As soon as he settles, Jaskier leans back against him almost immediately, heavier than before. “Tired?”

Jaskier shakes his head. “Comfortable.”

Geralt moves to hold Jaskier again, plans forgotten when thin arms come up to hold onto his own. He tries not to think about it, tries to not let it get to him. After everything he did... what he said... Geralt knows he doesn’t deserve this and won’t try to fight it when it ends. Doing everything he can to stay in the moment, Geralt pushes the thoughts aside and moves to rest his head in the crook of Jaskier’s neck. 

“You’re thinking again,” the bard whispers as Geralt moves. A huffed breath only makes Jaskier laugh. “You can talk about it, if you want.”

“I...” Geralt starts after several long moments, Jaskier only waits patiently, rubbing a hand over Geralt’s arm. “I’m... worried that when this is over...”

When Geralt’s words fail him again, Jaskier takes over. “You left me there.”

Water laps over them. “I know.”

“On a mountain that took us days to climb.”

A stuttered breath. “I know...”

“After saying such...”

Words falling off again as a head presses back against Geralt. The witcher wraps his arms tighter, afraid to let go, but he will if he’s asked. “I’m so sorry, Jaskier.”

The smell of tears floats through the air. “I know.” The softness in Jaskier’s words hurts more than if Jaskier was yelling at him.

He’s gone over that day so many times; played his own words back to himself and tried to make sense of them. No matter how many times he does, it never gets any better. The words still fall from his mouth, he still walks away, and now, Geralt knows they will still end up here. “I looked for you...” Geralt mumbles, hating the words even as he says them. “For years... every time I stopped in a village, I-”

“I asked after you,” Jaskier interrupts and Geralt stops his babbling instantly, letting the other take over. “Tried to find any scrap of news I could. I only ever w-wanted to know you were s-safe... were a-alive.”

Geralt picks up on the signs even as he listens, cursing every god he can think of as Jaskier struggles to catch his breath. When Jaskier doesn’t stop talking, Geralt feels a warm sense of pride rush through him as he listens to Jaskier fight back. “Up until Cintra, I h-heard about y-you everywhere,” Jaskier continues. 

“I hid,” Geralt fills in, rubbing his hand over Jaskier’s arms soothingly. 

“You h-hid well,” Jaskier adds brokenly. “I t-take it you b-brought Ciri here.”

It’s not really a question, but Geralt answers anyways. “It was the only place I could keep her safe at the time. That and she needed training so she could defend herself.”

“An e-excellent h-hiding spot,” Jaskier gasps out before a high pitched whine catches him off guard. Choking it off, Jaskier’s grip on Geralt’s arms tightens and the witcher wonders how long the marks will stay, not wanting Jaskier to see them. “I only w-wish I h-had known... Ah... Geralt, I t-thought you w-were...”

Even as the bard fails to finish his sentence, Geralt is pressing his lips to water softened skin, filling in the rest. Jaskier both tenses and whimpers when Geralt pulls away from his shoulder so he can speak again. “I made you think I was dead...”

Jaskier nods and squirms, unable to fight the affects any longer, but still not moving his hand away from Geralt. When Geralt goes to do it for him, lacing their fingers together, Jaskier shakes his head. “I c-c-can’t... n-not again...”

Chest heaving, Jaskier cries openly now and Geralt feels his heart shatter anew. “You’ll feel better, once this is done,” Geralt tries, coaxing Jaskier gently. It takes a few more soft spoken words before Jaskier finally allows his hand to be guided down to his angry red cock. With only a few strokes between them and some well placed kisses, Jaskier is coming with a groan that holds back so much more than what it exposes. 

When it’s all over, Jaskier cries softly in Geralt’s arms, too tired and spent to hold himself up even the slightest. Not knowing what to do, Geralt only gives whatever comfort he can to the bard. After years of soothing Ciri and her nightmares, Geralt has finally learned some of the skills needed to calm someone, but this entire situation leaves him feeling like he’s drowning. He wraps himself around Jaskier as much as he can, his heart stuttering when fingers hesitantly reach for him. Scared they will only try to push him away, Geralt finds he can breathe again when they only wrap around his wrist and hold on. 

“G-geralt... I...” Jaskier gasps out around a sob. 

“I’m sorry, Jaskier,” the witcher only soothes, making room for the face that presses into his neck. 

They stay like that for longer than they probably should, soaking in water that’s no longer soothing. Once Jaskier’s sobs slow, his breathing returning to normal, Geralt nudges him gently. “C-can we g-go?” Jaskier whispers before Geralt can say anything. 

The witcher only hums before he starts to loosen his arms, going slow enough to give Jaskier plenty of time to acclimate. The moment he pulls away completely, Jaskier whines and Geralt makes a soft noise. That’s all he does before he moves so he can cradle Jaskier in his arms, slipping an arm under Jaskier’s legs as he wraps one around his back. 

Stepping out of the pool, Geralt works quickly to get Jaskier wrapped in the towel he left nearby before the cold air can affect the frail bard too much. It means having to set Jaskier down on the rocky ground for a moment, but as soon as he has the towel in hand, he dries the man off quickly. “Y-you had more p-planned,” Jaskier says, teeth chattering as he finally sees the other soaps laying near the edge of the pool. 

Geralt nods his head as he works, moving to dry Jaskier’s hair. Once he is finished, he grabs the blanket from earlier and wraps Jaskier in it. He’s happy to see the rocks have warmed it for them and he bundles the bard as tightly as he dares. “There will be other baths,” he grumbles as he pulls his own clothes on quickly. Leaving the rest of their stuff behind, knowing Eskel will be along to grab it all for him later. 

It doesn’t take long before Jaskier is nuzzled against his neck again and Geralt has to stop himself from returning the gesture as he climbs the smooth stone stairs. The room is warm when they reach it, fire still roaring and Jaskier sighs when they enter. Wanting to enjoy the small moments as much as he can, Geralt pushes aside the guilt that builds in him when Jaskier reaches for him as soon as he sets him down. “I’m not going anywhere,” Geralt promises as he moves from the side of the bed, pulling off his clothes and leaving them in a pile. 

Once that’s done, he walks back to the bed and crawls in next to Jaskier, covering them both quickly. Almost immediately, Jaskier is moving to press against him, curling up next to Geralt as he lays his head on Geralt’s chest. Forcing himself to relax, Geralt drapes an arm around Jaskier and tries not to let the worries and fears in him overwhelm him. 

Jaskier breaks him out of his spiral before it can really even start, voice soft and muted in the large room. “I never hated you...” Jaskier whispers as the silence stretches. 

The witcher doesn’t say anything, finds he doesn’t know how to respond to the admission. Jaskier saves him once again. “I wanted to... wanted to be mad at you... but I couldn’t. I never could...”

It takes Jaskier a long time to get the words out, every breath a struggle and Geralt can hear the pain behind the words. Still not knowing what to say, knowing he doesn’t deserve any of this, Geralt closes his eyes. Without thinking about it for too long, he moves, turning on his side so he’s facing Jaskier. He slips and arm under the bard, pulling Jaskier close again. As he cradles him, he tucks Jaskier’s head against his chest, threading the fingers of his free hand through still damp brown hair. 

There’s nothing much he can do, he knows this. No words he can say will help, will give any comfort to Jaskier. When shaky fingers start to climb up his back, gripping tightly, Geralt realizes that, for now, he is giving Jaskier something, even if he doesn’t understand what. “You’re safe,” Geralt murmurs and Jaskier sighs in his arms at the only words Geralt feels he can give. 

It’s not the words he wants to say, but he puts everything he can into those two small words. He doesn’t deserve to say what he wants to, doesn’t know if he will ever earn the right to, but he knows it doesn’t matter. As Geralt listens to Jaskier fall asleep once more, passing out after all of the events of the past few hours, Geralt finds himself pushing down yet another emotion he’s not used to. 

Closing his eyes, Geralt ignores the pinpricks he can feel in them, pretending to not notice the telltale signs of tears building in them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? 
> 
> I'm loving the comments so far! Thank you for them! This story is still in the works, so I'm getting the chapters up as soon as they are finished. If there's any grammar or missed words, I apologize; I'll fix them as soon as I get the chance!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, but I realized that forcing more wasn't going to do it any good. 
> 
> Jaskier tells Geralt about his capture, but nothing graphic is discussed.

“I’m losing him,” Geralt whispers to Vesemir a couple of nights later. They’re standing in the doorway to Geralt’s room, watching Lambert tell yet another story to the bard. The silver haired witcher watches as Jaskier smiles and laughs softly at Lambert’s animated ways, but he can’t help but notice...

“He’s getting tired, isn’t he?” Vesemir replies, their voices too low to carry to the bard. 

Geralt can only hum. The eyes that used to shine clear across a crowded room now only look on disinterestedly. Hair that used to glow with vibrancy hangs duly around too thin shoulders. “I don’t know what to do.”

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder and Geralt rocks into the feeling. “You’re keeping him alive,” Vesemir starts. “Right now, that may be all you can do. The healing can’t start until after the trauma is finished.”

Vesemir peels away from his side before Geralt can protect that line of thinking; the trauma won’t just magically stop, not anytime soon anyways. Sighing, Geralt makes his leaden legs carry him into the room and he slips into the bed next to Jaskier. Lambert’s story never falters and Geralt is grateful his brother doesn’t even twitch an eyebrow at the action. As soon as he settles, leaning against the headboard, Jaskier leans back until he is pressed against Geralt. The witcher wraps an arm around his bard, holding him close as they both listen to Lambert talk, Geralt’s mind far away. 

It’s the next morning before Geralt finds his words again. They’re still laying in bed, Jaskier wrapped around Geralt’s middle. They’ve just gotten past another attack and the witcher finds himself running his fingers through Jaskier’s hair as the sun starts to pop over the horizon, peeking in through the window. It’s not much comfort, but it’s all he can give right now, especially with what’s on his mind. Taking as deep a breath as he can, Geralt forces the words out before they can grow any heavier in him. 

“I should have been keeping you safe,” Geralt whispers. 

The words hang there between them and it’s the small movement on his chest that let’s him know Jaskier even heard him. “You wouldn’t have been able to.”

Geralt swallows a growl. “Of course I could have, if I had just-”

“Not left me on the side of the mountain?” Jaskier interrupts softly. It doesn’t matter how quietly the bard speaks lately, the sound of his voice makes Geralt stop talking immediately, needing to hear everything the other says. “If only that had been the case.”

“What do you mean?” Geralt prompts when Jaskier doesn’t explain. 

Another bout of shifting and this time Geralt can feel how uncomfortable the other feels. “Have you heard what I’ve been called? All over the Continent, for years?”

The change gives Geralt pause. Of course, after traveling with a witcher for years, he knew there had to be some names thrown Jaskier’s way. He had never really paid attention though, only stepping in before a brawl could be started and a room for the night lost. After another moment of thinking, Geralt is forced to admit he’s at a loss. “Nothing that would have led to this.”

Jaskier chuckles and Geralt can feel the pain behind the sound. “They called me Monster Fucker. The Witcher’s Whore. Slut of the South, when we stayed down that way for a while that one time.”

As Jaskier speaks, Geralt feels a mixture of horror anger bubbling in him. Listening to the story, Geralt remembers the name people used for Jaskier before his rescue and Geralt suddenly hates how blind he was for years. “Why did you never say anything?”

Jaskier moves so he can look up at Geralt, pinning him with blue eyes. “I always knew how to protect myself before you; even after meeting you, it was never hard. Course, you were never far behind, whether you knew what you were doing or not.” Laying his head back down again, Jaskier sighs. “There were always more important things to do. Always monsters that needed hunting, villagers that needed persuading... Me being called a whore was never the most important thing.”

“That’s not true,” Geralt chokes out once he’s sure Jaskier is done speaking. It’s the most he’s heard the bard say in one stretch since their reunion, but he almost wants to beg him to take it all back. “You’re important. You’ve always been important to me.”

“You’re job is important to you,” Jaskier mumbles, but Geralt can hear the truth behind the words. 

Geralt grips Jaskier tighter, making sure to move his hand away from Jaskier’s hair before he does. “At the end of the day, the job is still a job. It will never mean more to me than those that are important to me. No matter how much I fuck things up.”

Jaskier sighs again and Geralt closes his eyes, not knowing how else to convince the other man. When Eskel shows up once the sun has risen high enough with a bowl of broth for Jaskier, the bard barely even acknowledges the other man. Eskel raises a brow at Geralt, but he only shakes his head, knowing the bard needs to be as alone as he can be right now. As the silence stretches again, Geralt realizes there will never be enough ways to apologize to the Jaskier. Not only did he leave him in the worst way he could have possibly done so, he never heard all the ways Jaskier was being abused over the years. 

When the quiet does finally break, it’s Jaskier that does so and Geralt finds himself giving over his full attention instantly. “I got over the name calling a long time ago,” Jaskier starts and Geralt notices he’s continuing his story from earlier. “When I got down from the mountain, I got drunk. A lot. After that, I wandered for a long while, trying to find you.”

Geralt rubs his hand over Jaskier’s back. “I wish we had found each other,” he says, needing Jaskier to know how much he tried to find the bard. 

“But we didn’t,” Jaskier whispers. It’s another long moment before the bard can start again and while Geralt waits, he nudges Jaskier into a seated position. The bard grumbles and sighs the whole way, but leans against Geralt and waits patiently. The witcher reaches for the now cooled bowl of broth and moves to hand it over when he catches the look on his friend’s face. 

“Just a few bites,” Geralt tells him. He’s had to watch Jaskier eat less and less as the days pass. They’ve found mornings are usually a good time of day to try, but it’s still a struggle most days. 

With a defeated look and a sigh, Jaskier takes hold of the bowl and tentatively takes a few sips. Geralt tries to not stare, he really does, as he runs his hand over Jaskier’s arm. He gives all of the silent encouragement he can, not wanting to overwhelm Jaskier or make him feel like a child, but he can’t push down the worry that gnaws at him. The bard closes his eyes, laying his head on Geralt’s shoulder a few moments later and the witcher forces himself to wait. 

“I always feel bad...” Jaskier whispers. “Vesemir is trying so hard, yet it all just tastes like sand to me.”

Geralt hums as he takes the bowl back, knowing Jaskier won’t be able to get anymore of it down. “He’s got all kinds of meals planned for when you feel like eating again.”

Jaskier chuckles at Geralt’s words, the sound dark and heavy even as it flows around the room. “Well, that sounds promising,” Jaskier says as he shifts, moving to wrap himself around Geralt once more. 

As they wait for Jaskier’s stomach to settle, Geralt finds himself wanting to ask Jaskier about the rest of his story. He knows how strong the bard is, knows how many times people have tried to use him to get to the witcher. Jaskier had always found a way out, never letting himself be caught. Geralt can’t help but be lost this time, especially considering just how bad it truly was. None of it makes any sense to Geralt, but he holds back his questions, forcing them down as he cradles the bard. 

“I thought it was safe to go back to Oxenfurt,” Jaskier says suddenly, bringing Geralt back to the moment. “It was always my go to, in the past. Somewhere I could run to, hole up for however long until I felt like traveling again.”

Geralt nods before remembering Jaskier can’t see the motion from where he’s tucked. He changes he motion to a hum. “I almost went there a few times to look for you,” he adds on, going back to those days. “I never could bring myself to do it though.”

“Part of me is almost glad for that,” Jaskier replies with a chuckle. “Fairly certain if you had tried, there would have been several people keen on chasing you out.”

A breath huffs out of Geralt’s lungs, just shy of being able to call itself a laugh. “I can’t say I would have been able to blame them.”

“Yes, well...” Jaskier whispers, whatever joy that had made it’s way into his words leaving again just as quickly. “I should never have gone. Not the second time at least.”

“The second time?” Geralt presses. “Fairly certain you’ve been there more than twice.”

“After the mountain,” Jaskier sighs exasperatedly. Geralt can almost picture the eye roll that accompanies the sound and he moves to ruffle Jaskier’s hair gently. “You brute,” the bard adds on, a smile tugging at his lips. 

Not wanting to think of the events of the mountain more than he has to, Geralt moves on. “I take it the first time was part of your bender?” Geralt asks. Oxenfurt has always been a place for Jaskier to let loose and unwind; the few times Geralt had joined him there, he was always amazed at how different Jaskier was there. 

“It might have been,” the bard adds, picking up on Geralt’s joking tone. “Always a fun time when I get the chance to yell at Vlado anyways.”

Geralt chuckles again, almost giving the bard grief for bringing up his self declared nemesis once more. “I’m glad you were able to enjoy yourself, then.”

As soon as the words leave Geralt’s mouth, he knows he’s fucked up. Everything in Jaskier changes, his body tensing before going completely loose as if everything leaves him. “Yeah... it was a fun time...” Jaskier whispers and Geralt hates the broken and defeated sound he can now hear behind the words. 

Before Jaskier can continue, Geralt shifts, sliding down the bed until he is laying down on his side. As he moves, Jaskier rolls over to his other side and Geralt moves closer to him, throwing an arm over Jaskier’s waist. Sighing softly, Jaskier pressed back into Geralt until they are flush against each other with Geralt cradling Jaskier. While he would love to be able to see his bard’s face, he knows what it feels like to have the need to have some sense of privacy while retelling a difficult store. Sometimes, being able to look away is all someone needs to get through it. 

Apparently, Jaskier falls under that category, picking up his story once again as he reaches for Geralt’s hand. “After leaving Oxenfurt, ready to travel again just to say I was, I went South for a long time. The weather was warmer, of course, but really I just wanted to go to the coast. Never did make it that far...”

Jaskier’s voice is soft as he talks; far away as if he’s trying to remove himself as much as possible. Geralt hates the sound. It only makes him want to stop Jaskier and tell him they don’t have to go over this, that the story can go unsaid for the rest of their lives if the bard wants. He bites his tongue though, pushing the words down as he grips the hand holding his tighter, grounding himself as he listens to the voice that isn’t Jaskier’s. 

“I’m not sure why I went back to Oxenfurt the second time,” Jaskier continues. His thumb runs over Geralt’s hand as he speaks and Geralt finds he can’t tell if the bard is doing it for himself or the witcher. “I knew there wasn’t really anything there for me any more. Sure, they’re always trying to get me to stay on and teach at the University, but I knew there was only so many more years I can make an appearance there.”

This one statement has Geralt realizing he has more in common with the bard than he’s ever known. As a witcher, he’s been graced - a term used lightly - with not having to hide the fact that he doesn’t age like humans do. No one questions it, only caring if the job gets done or if he’s moving on. For Jaskier though, being a man that thrives on his social life, having to stay away from areas every now and again has to be hell for the bard. Being half elf grants Jaskier no favors from the world and questions would undoubtedly be asked the minute anyone paid attention to the lack of aging from the bard. It creates a lonely existence, one you can’t really escape from. 

Having friends, only for them to turn on you the minute they learn what you are. Thinking that there’s a community of people that will support you, ones you have to disappear from if only to stay safe. Geralt knows he’s lucky in that aspect, knowing he will always have his brothers by his side. Without that though... Being able to live for so long creates a lonely existence, one you don’t have many ways to escape from. 

“Even knowing the dangers,” Jaskier continues, breaking Geralt out of his thoughts. “I still went back. One last party, I guess...”

The bard’s words fall off and Geralt can feel a ball of anxiety growing in him. “Jaskier...?” he asks when the silence stretches for much longer than he thought it might. He realizes it’s been quite some time since the bard’s last attack and feels the question burning on his tongue, but Jaskier starts again before Geralt gets the chance. 

“I was performing,” Jaskier whispers. “Well, I had been, anyways. It was just after, as I was making my way to the bard for a glass of wine and to watch the next young one. Always loved supporting the students...

“They came up behind me, asked if I wanted to join them for the evening. I almost said yes, if only because I was bored, when they started calling me names.” Jaskier’s words have Geralt bristling and he has to force himself to remain calm as he listens. “They said... they knew I wouldn’t mind if they were rough with me, since I was a Monster Fucker. Figured I wasn’t having fun. Not enough people around that could treat me like the whore they that I was.”

“You’re not a whore,” Geralt growls, the words grinding past his teeth. 

Jaskier huffs in front of him. “Fairly certain I might have to disagree, but I appreciate the sentiment all the same. We both know I have slept my way around many a brothel across the Continent.”

“You were never my whore though,” Geralt grumbles, letting go of his anger reluctantly. He had never thought of Jaskier that way and hates the fact that apparently plenty of people did. 

“I...” Jaskier whispers, voice going back to that far off sound. “I tried to fight going with them; did what I could to get someone else to see what was going on, but...”

Geralt buries his face against Jaskier’s neck, doing his best to give the bard as much comfort as he can. 

“I didn’t know I was drugged until later.” Jaskier’s crying now, Geralt can smell it. “When the first batch of potion wore off after only a few hours, that was when they realized I wasn’t fully human. M-my elf b-blood metabolized it too f-fast... After t-that...”

When the words fall off once more, Geralt pulls away just enough to turn Jaskier towards him, unable to bear the tears any longer. As soon as Jaskier flips over, Geralt is wrapping both arms around him, pulling him in as close as he can. He can feel Jaskier tense against him, but once the witcher threads his fingers through Jaskier’s hair, the bard melts in his arms. 

The tears only start to flow quicker and Geralt starts to whisper whatever he can think of to show Jaskier he’s here for him. He can’t help but feel part of this is his fault, that if he had been there for Jaskier, none of this would have happened. Even if they had just planned on meeting up somewhere, Geralt would have at least known Jaskier was missing and could have looked for him.

When Jaskier nuzzles closer to him though, leaving hardly any room between them, Geralt can see he’s making it out be more than it is. At the end of the day, they are where they are and there’s no changing that. Even as his mind goes, he can hear himself still talking softly to Jaskier and he uses his own words to steady himself. 

Through the words he murmurs, Geralt picks up on Jaskier’s tears slowing, the salty smell in the air dissipating around them. Jaskier’s breathing starts to slow as well and Geralt settles in. He’s learned to take Jaskier sleeping whenever they can, never knowing when the potion is going to act up again. 

As he lays there, his mind goes back over Jaskier’s story, he can still see the holes within he doesn’t know how to fill. He won’t even been able to to ask the right questions in order to get those answers, so he brushes it all aside, focusing on the now. For the moment, Jaskier is safe. He is in Geralt’s arms where no one will be able to get to him. Once they finally get him past the effects of the potion, they can put this whole thing behind them and focus on healing Jaskier...

When a whine coming from Jaskier breaks the silence in the room, Geralt waits, hoping the bard stays asleep. Another whine soon follows though and Geralt readies himself, shaking off whatever he has to to give the bard his full attention instead. They have a rough idea of how much longer they will have to go through this, but Geralt knows that there is no guarantee at this point. Ready to help Jaskier however he can, the witcher hums softly, letting Jaskier know he isn’t alone in this. Not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are like candy!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: Jaskier is lucid during all of this and nothing non-con happens between the two of them. 
> 
> New tag added!

When Ciri and Yennefer make it to the keep, the potion still hasn’t finished with Jaskier. Geralt meets them in the courtyard, leaving Eskel behind with the bard as he sleeps. As soon as Ciri dismounts, she’s running over to Geralt, white blonde ponytails flying behind her. He catches her easily and is amazing at how much lighter he feels once she is in his presence again. Holding on longer than he needs to, Geralt closes his eyes and savors the moment as long as he can. 

“Missed you, pup,” he grumbles out, causing Ciri to laugh. 

“It’s only been a little over a week,” Ciri tells him through giggles and Geralt holds back a sigh. He never wants Ciri to let go of you joy and he can’t imagine taking it from her now. 

Finally, Geralt sets his ward down, watching as she runs off to go bother Lambert. The sound of heels against rock draws his attention and he looks up to see Yennefer approaching, a look behind her eyes that softens when she takes him in. “That bad?” she asks once she reaches his side. 

Geralt hums, following it up with a sigh. “It’s worse than I could have ever thought, Yenn,” he starts. An arm slips through his and he leads the two of them inside and away from nosy ears. “Could you take a look at him? Vesemir has tried everything he could think of, but nothing has helped so far.”

“Of course,” the sorceress responds, her words missing their usual bite. “I’ll think of ways to keep Ciri busy, too. If it’s this bad, I’m guessing you don’t want her to see.”

“You’re not wrong there,” Geralt replies. “Thank you.”

Yennefer tips her head in acknowledgment as he finally makes it inside. Without pausing, Geralt heads for his shared room, letting Eskel pass as they enter. “He hasn’t stirred once,” the man whispers as he slips past and Geralt thanks him before turning his attention to the sleeping bard. 

They stand in the hallway for along time and Geralt knows he’s stalling right now. Keeping his senses trained on Jaskier and on the soft breaths coming from the sleeping bard, the witcher whispers, explaining what he can to Yennefer. “It comes in waves; some of them are worse than others and it’s really starting to wear on him. I don’t know how to...”

“He’s still here, Geralt,” Yennefer starts when Geralt’s words trail off. “After everything he’s been through, he’s still here. That says a lot more than you realize.”

Geralt looks down at her and can see that there’s more she’s hiding from him, but when she stays silent, Geralt only sighs. Looking back at Jaskier, Geralt has a thought, remembering something the sorceress wouldn’t know that would probably help. “We found out he’s half elf,” Geralt says and he can feel the moment the words sink in with her. 

Anyone else would have missed the subtle shifts in her, but Geralt has been around Yennefer long enough to register the surprise that passes through her. Fingers tighten minutely around his arm and Geralt has to hold back a chuckle. “Well, that explains the aging thing. I was starting to wonder what he was doing to still look so younger after all of these years.”

Geralt chuckles again. The sound dies off quickly though as Geralt’s mind goes back to the situation in front of them. “Will you be able to help him, even if you don’t know what the potion was made out of?” he asks. He knows Vesemir has tried, has done his best, but being stuck in the keep gives the older witcher limited ways to help. Yennefer has more ways to get supplies if she does figure something out and Geralt has to force himself to not hope. 

Yennefer sighs, her violet eyes flicking over the bed. “You know I’ll try,” she states, voice just as strong as always. “Ciri and I looked around for a few days, trying to find someone that could give us any information. Didn’t turn up a whole lot, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”

They stand there for only a moment longer before Geralt finally sighs. With Yennefer right on his heels, Geralt moves towards the bedside, pausing long enough to stare down at the man. His heart beats heavily as he looks, taking in the sight of how gaunt Jaskier’s face still is. His brain takes a moment to try and see if anything has changed; part of him knows that Jaskier hasn’t eaten enough, has been entirely too stressed out, for anything to have gotten better yet. 

“Oh, Jaskier...” Yennefer whispers, bringing Geralt back to the moment. He can only watch as she stretches a hand out, fighting the urge to stop her so she doesn’t wake the bard. When her fingers brush against Jaskier’s forehead, he can tell her touch is light, barely brushing skin. It’s all she needs though and her pained gasp tears Geralt’s eyes away from Jaskier’s face. 

“Yenn?” he asks, worry rising in him as he watches her double over, her hand never leaving Jaskier’s face. Her free hand reaches out for him and he moves closer, giving her something to latch on to. “Talk to me!”

Yennefer only shakes next to him and Geralt wonders if he should pull her away. Before he can though, she takes a pained step backwards and he moves with her, giving her all of the support he can. As soon as her hand is no longer touching Jaskier, she turns to Geralt, burying her face in his chest. She’s shaking harder when Geralt wraps his arms around her and he’s at a loss for what to do as he watches her. 

Enough time passes that Geralt starts to worry Jaskier will wake up and see them there. He knows the bard won’t have an issue with them being in the room, but after everything the bard has been through.. Waking up with someone he doesn’t expect to be there next to him could be a setback Geralt wouldn’t know how to overcome. Hoping moving Yennefer from the room will help her as well, Geralt starts to slowly steer the both of them back into the hallway even as she continues to shake in his arms. 

Only once there’s been enough space put between Yennefer and Jaskier does the sorceress start to pull away from Geralt. She doesn’t move far though and Geralt finds himself waiting even as he takes in the sight of tears streaming from violet eyes. “S-so much...” she whispers and Geralt freezes. 

“You read...” he starts, mind clicking a few things into place. 

Yennefer nods as she takes a few deep breaths and Geralt holds back a sigh as he watches. “I know,” Yennefer replies, her eyes closing as she leans most of her weight against the witcher. “I had to see what we are dealing with though, and I knew neither of you would be able to tell me the full story.”

Shaking his head, Geralt pulls Yennefer closer; she’s right, but he doesn’t tell her that. “Do I want to know?” he asks instead. 

“Its...” she tries to say before stopping again. A shuddering breath escapes her. “He’s gone through so much...”

“He has,” Geralt agrees, going over all of the stories Jaskier had managed to tell him. Letting out a heavy breath, Geralt warps his arms around Yennefer tighter. “I would have warned you, if you had said something.”

“I almost wish I had, at this point,” Yennefer sighs. They stay like that for another moment before Yennefer finally pulls away, her body no longer shaking. “Has he told you it’s all he dreams about? It never leaves him, waking or sleeping...”

Shaking his head, the witcher lowers his eyes. While they stand there, Geralt can’t help but tune his senses back into the room behind them, the knowledge that Jaskier can wake at any moment pulling his attention away. Yennefer finally slips out of his embrace, straightening her clothes before she looks up at him. Geralt feels like his legs have been kicked out from under him as he takes in the look on her face when she looks up at him. 

“He doesn’t know how to tell you.” Yennefer’s voice is like ice. He hasn’t heard her talk like this in a long time and he dreads hearing the rest of her words. “It’s going to get worse. As the end of this draws nearer, it will only get so much worse and the end isn’t here yet. You both need to talk about it, now, before it’s too late.”

She gives Geralt one last look, cupping his jaw with a soft hand, before walking away, heading back towards the courtyard. As Yennefer leaves, Geralt steels himself as best as he can, turning her words over in his mind. He doesn’t have long to think about it, the sound of blankets shifting catching his attention. 

Geralt slips inside the room as the first whimper reaches his ears. It only takes a few steps to cross the room, closing the door behind him as he goes. “I’m here, Jaskier,” Geralt whispers as he reaches the bard’s side just in time for a pained whine to fill the room. 

Crystal blue eyes open slowly, searching, and Geralt moves closer so he can sit on the edge of the bed. Slowly, he reaches a hand out and cradles Jaskier’s face gently. “Ger...” Jaskier whines, moving up into the touch. 

“I’ve got you, Jask,” Geralt murmurs.

The bard’s eyes close again as another whine pulls itself from him. Now that Geralt knows Jaskier is aware of him being in the room, he pulls away just long enough to remove his boots. Checking the hearth, making sure the fire has enough fuel to burn until Geralt can get back to it, he finally moves back to the bed and crawls in. 

Wasting no time, Geralt pulls Jaskier to him, slipping an arm around thin shoulders. Jaskier is breathing heavily and Geralt swears silently, hating that this is how his bard is waking up. “How can I help, Jaskier,” he asks as he runs a hand over Jaskier’s back. “Whatever you need, Jaskier. You’re not alone.”

A sob tears it’s way through Jaskier, his body shaking with the need for something Geralt knows he can’t stop. He keeps his word though, moving with Jaskier when the bard reaches for him. Slender fingers warp around his wrist, pulling his hand. When Geralt tries to switch their positions, Jaskier chokes down another sob. Stopping both of their hands, Geralt uses the hand wrapped around Jaskier to tip his chin back until the bard is looking up at him. 

He thinks back to all of the attacks Jaskier has had. How each time, even though the bard was in pain, he has never once lost control of himself. Has always been aware of what’s going on. In this moment, as he looks down into cloudy blue eyes, full of so much pain and sadness, Geralt can still see clarity. He can still see the man he knows underneath, the one that never gives up, never lets anyone do something to him that he doesn’t want, not without a fight. 

More parts of the story are filled in for the witcher in that quiet moment as he stares at Jaskier and Geralt finds his words finally. He knows he already knows the answer, but that doesn’t stop him from needing to hear it. As he goes to ask it though, a sliver of fear runs through him; he could be wrong, could have all of this backwards, and it starts to out weight the parts of him that think he’s right. Taking a deep breath, Geralt hears the words slip out of his mouth:

“Are you sure this is what you want, Jaskier?”

He can see the moment Jaskier understands his question. Not looking away, Geralt can only watch as so many emotions fly past those eyes and he almost lets himself believe they are reflecting his own feelings. Years of wondering where they stand with each other, wanting to be more, but never knowing how to ask... Pushing the younger man away because that was at least a pain he could bear...

Geralt sees all of the good he never let himself have staring back at him. The fear stills runs through him, but Geralt feels himself starting to wonder if there could be something more now. Still, he waits, knowing the words need to be said, especially when it comes to this. Jaskier is shaking against him at this point and just as Geralt starts to think he won’t get an answer, something behind those eyes settles and Geralt can see everything click into place. 

“I t-t-trust you, Geralt...” Jaskier stammers, voice soft. “I a-always h-have.. and I h-have never b-been more sure...”

As Jaskier speaks, he puts more pressure on Geralt’s wrist, slowly pushing him down again. When Jaskier bites back a whine, Geralt can only growl as he leans forward to press his forehead against Jaskier’s, hoping to ground them both as he lets Jaskier guide him. When he stops one last time, he listens as the bard gasps out a whispered “please” before he slides his fingers over swollen skin. 

The gasp Jaskier releases both warms and breaks Geralt; he’s imagined this scenario before. Nights he spent by himself, missing the chatter he had grown more found of than he ever thought possible, he had thought about what this could be like. Allowing his sword calloused fingers to wrap around Jaskier’s cock, Geralt finds himself wishing this was all different. As Jaskier whines again, he hates the fates for taking away the chance to do this how they wanted to. 

Jaskier arches against him, his breath panting hot over Geralt’s skin as the witcher finally starts to move his hand. When Jaskier cries out with the loudest sound Geralt has heard yet, he has to close his eyes as he tries to block out his own pain. Instead, he focuses as much as he can, doing everything he can to help the man he wants to say so much to but doesn’t know how. 

“Ger-Geralt...” Jaskier gasps, his hips starting to stutter and Geralt wonders if the bard is holding himself back. “I’m so s-sorry...”

It takes Geralt’s brain a long time to process the words and when he does, he pulls his head away from Jaskier. As soon as they are no longer connected, Jaskier’s eyes fly open and Geralt can’t even pretend to not see the fear behind them. “Don’t,” Geralt chokes out, wishing he knew how to do more. 

A tear slips down Jaskier’s cheek even as another whine escapes him and Geralt has to fight back the urge to brush it away. “I’ve got you,” he whispers as he starts to move his hand faster. “Let go, Jask... I’m here.”

More tears slide down Jaskier’s face as Geralt feels him let go. Once the bard stops fighting the potion, the sounds are no longer held back and Geralt forces himself to listen to them all, not allowing himself the choice to block them out. It’s not the best way he’s ever grounded himself, but he’s got nothing else. Jaskier’s eyes close again and Geralt instantly misses the sight of them as he threads his fingers through soft brown strands. He holds Jaskier close to him when the bard moves to tuck his head against Geralt’s chest, letting him block out the world. 

After he stops fighting, Jaskier’s doesn’t last much longer. With a final cry and a few harsh thrusts, he’s spills over Geralt’s hand, quickly making a mess of them both. Geralt’s hand continues to move, his strokes slowing once he is sure Jaskier is finished. He stops as carefully as he can, not wanting to cause the overstimulated bard any added stress, and yet, Jaskier still whimpers as his hips thrust one last time. 

Pulling away finally, Geralt wipes his hand off on one of the blankets that covers the bed, throwing it off to the side after he cleans Jaskier as best as he can. Once he resettles, an arm wraps around him as a sob tears its way through the bard. The sound does something to Geralt and it’s all he can do to hold on to the broken man next to him. He can feel his shirt growing damp where Jaskier’s face is pressed against his chest, but he ignores it as he focuses on scratching gently at Jaskier’s head, doing his best to soothe the younger man. 

“You’re safe, Jaskier,” he whispers, voice muffled as he nuzzles against the crook of Jaskier’s neck. At his words, Jaskier lets out another sob and Geralt only does his best to keep holding on. Fingers dig into his back weakly, pulling at his shirt as thin shoulders shake. The hand not brushing through Jaskier’s hair rubs against the bard’s back and Geralt does everything he can to ignore just how many ribs he can count as his hand moves. 

It doesn’t happen for a long time, but eventually, the sobs start to slow. They eventually turn into muffled whimpers and sniffles before finally dying off, only making Geralt hold onto Jaskier tighter. His grip loosens instantly though when Jaskier tries to pull away a bit and he gives the man the room he wants, even if that only means putting a few inches between them. “I..” Jaskier starts, voice thick after so much crying. “I... I’m s-so-”

“Don’t you dare,” Geralt growls softly. There’s no malice behind the sound, nothing that would make his words sound angry even with the sound attached to them. “Please...” he ends up tacking on, voice softer. 

“You s-shouldn’t have had t-to do...” Jaskier stammers, trying to pull away further. 

Geralt doesn’t let him this time, understanding where he’s going with his broken words. He feels a part of him sinking as he pieces everything together; he can’t help but hate the fact that Jaskier is even thinking this way right now. “You didn’t force me to do anything, Jask,” Geralt murmurs. As he finds his words, he starts to rub Jaskier’s back again, hoping he’s calming him in some way. 

“But-”

“I swear, Jaskier,” Geralt insists before the bard can even begin to speak again. Taking a deep breath, Geralt does his best to put his words in some kind of order. “I never would have done that if I didn’t want to, for one. Not even you could have forced me into something like that, I can promise you.”

Even as Jaskier nods his head, Geralt can feel him tense in his hold. He can tell the bard still wants to argue, so he presses on, not giving the other a chance. “I was more worried you were forcing yourself to do something, Jask. I... That’s not the first time I’ve thought about us in that way. I’ve just never...” His words trail off again and he almost curses, not knowing how to phrase anything right now. There’s too much swirling around in him, too many emotions he doesn’t know how to separate anymore. Taking another deep breath, he finds the words to say one last thing: “I’m only sorry this is what it took, Jaskier... I wish it could have been different, but I’m not sorry it happened.”

The room falls silent except for the crackling of the fire behind Jaskier. If he strains hard enough, the witcher can hear sounds within the keep, can tell what everyone is up to if he thinks about it for too long. He doesn’t though, pulling all of his attention back to the man shaking in his arms. “Talk to me, Jask,” he whispers, suddenly hating the silence. 

Geralt starts to think Jaskier is never going to say anything when a few words are finally squeezed out in the space between them. “I hate t-this...” Jaskier whispers so softly and Geralt knows if he was anyone else, he never would have been able to hear Jaskier. 

As it is, the words rip at Geralt and he can’t help but worry that even though Jaskier gave him permission that maybe... “Jaskier, I...”

“I don’t regret t-that it happened,” Jaskier mumbles, stopping Geralt’s words in their tracks. The bard pulls back a little more, just enough for the blue eyes to find Geralt’s and he feels his breath catch at the sight of what’s behind them. A small smile pulls at Jaskier’s face and Geralt almost doesn’t believe it when it reaches his eyes, just a little. “I only hate that it t-took something l-like this,” the bard finishes, sliding his hand up to cup Geralt’s face. 

Geralt leans into the touch before he can stop himself as he takes in Jaskier’s words. He can’t take everything in anymore and has to close his eyes to take something away before he’s overwhelmed too much more. The feeling of Jaskier’s thumb sliding over his cheek helps to settle him though and Geralt sighs softly. “I’m sorry I waited for so long,” Geralt hears himself say finally and he knows just how true the words are. 

Jaskier chuckles, the soft sound removing some of the tension between the two of them. “We both waited longer than we needed to, it seems.”

Humming, Geralt opens his eyes again and is met by bright, clear eyes. Yennefer’s words about this not being over keep him from hoping the cloudiness is gone for good, but he takes his time enjoying them anyways. The sound of the fire is the only sound filling the room once more, but Geralt realizes he doesn’t care this time. When Jaskier’s eyes start to close, the bard fighting them the entire way, Geralt hums again as eh rolls onto his side, pulling Jaskier along with him. 

“Sleep, Jaskier,” Geralt rumbles. Once Jaskier settles on his chest, Geralt pulls a blanket over them both. “I’ll be here when you wake up. We can talk more then.”

As Jaskier’s breathing evens out, Geralt goes over Yennefer’s words once again, trying to figure out how much worse this could get. Knowing he needs to come up with a plan, the witcher runs his fingers over Jaskier’s arm, losing himself to the feeling. Before he has a chance to slip away though, a set of footsteps reaches the bedroom door, stopping just outside. He waits for the small knock, calling out for the person to come in once he’s sure Jaskier is completely out. 

When Ciri enters, the witcher can’t help but smile at her. He holds his free arm out to her, giving her hand a squeeze when she reaches his side. “How is he?” she whispers, looking over the bard with such open concern. 

“We’ll get him through this,” is all Geralt can say, not really knowing how to explain it all to her. 

“Did you tell him at least?” Ciri asks, giving Geralt a stern look that could rival one from Yennefer. 

Geralt chuckles softly before he turns to look at Jaskier again, gaze sweeping over him. “Not yet, pup,” he starts. “I.... I think he knows now though. I’ll tell him soon, I swear.”

Ciri huffs. “You better. He needs to know.”

With that, Ciri places a gentle kiss to Geralt’s forehead before she walks away, reminding him to say something if he needs anything. The door clicks shut behind her and the witcher settles back, ready to wait for as long as he has to for Jaskier to wake again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier finally tells Geralt just how bad it's about to get and they have a hard talk with each other. 
> 
> I still need to go through and edit chapters 3-current so please bear with me!

It’s dark before Jaskier wakes again. Geralt waits when he hears the bard start to shuffle, waking instantly himself. As the bard comes to, Geralt can tell everything is normal and he feels himself breathe a sigh of relief; after Jaskier’s last attack, he knows the bard needs a chance to be awake without something happening. When Jaskier finally wakes up completely, blue eyes blink up at Geralt lazily, and a small smile touches Jaskier’s face moments later. 

“Hello,” Jaskier whispers and Geralt can’t make himself ignore the way the sound makes him feel. In response, he only places a kiss on Jaskier’s forehead with a hum. Something about the simple act has his chest warming, the look on Jaskier’s face giving him all the information he needs to know it’s appreciated. 

“How are you feeling?” Geralt asks when it becomes clear Jaskier isn’t going to be the one to start talking. He watches the bard’s face, waiting for any changes. He finds nothing though and feels himself relax a little more. 

Jaskier’s arm tightens for a moment around Geralt’s waist. “Better,” is all he ends up saying, settling his head back down on Geralt’s chest. A comfortable silence fall over them, one Geralt doesn’t mind. It’s not a heavy one, nor is it one he feels he needs to fill or fix. Instead, it almost brings to mind the silences they used to enjoy, the ones from when they traveled together. It reminds him of nights sitting under the stars, a fire crackling away in front of them. Of nights hanging out in a room in a tavern, both working on their own tasks. 

As his mind flits back to those nights, Geralt also recalls the ways he used to feel those times. He goes over all of the times he wanted so badly to tell Jaskier how he felt, of all the ways he thought about finally coming clean to Jaskier. He was never able to break the silence though, just the way he finds he can’t now. At least, not the way he wants to. 

A sound down the hall outside of their room catches his attention and reminds Geralt of the extra bodies now within the keep, ones he has forgotten to tell Jaskier about. “Yennefer and Ciri arrived today,” he mentions, laughing to himself at the immediate reaction he hears next to him. 

“Oh,” Jaskier squeaks out. Geralt knows the last time the bard saw the sorceress didn’t end to well, for anyone, but he also knows a lot has changed since then. Running his hand over Jaskier’s back, Geralt waits for Jaskier. “I guess I wasn’t a-aware they would b-be coming here,” the bard stutters out, but Geralt can tell it’s more from fear than anything else. 

“Don’t worry,” Geralt starts, some of his mirth joining his words. “Having Ciri around has mellowed Yennefer more than anyone else has ever been able to. She’s not quite so hard around the edges anymore.”

Jaskier shivers in his hold. “Wouldn’t have thought there was anyway to soften her up,” Jaskier says and Geralt can hear the sarcasm that almost reminds him of the way he’s so used to seeing the bard. “What is Ciri like?”

The moment Jaskier asks the question, Geralt is reminded that the bard has never met the girl. “She’s so much like her mother,” Geralt starts, mind going back to the few times he got the chance to meet her. “She’s also so much like Calanthe. Strong willed with the kindest heart you’ll ever see.”

“You’re glowing,” Jaskier whispers and Geralt blinks, looking down at Jaskier. He’s met with bright blue eyes staring up at him and he can feel himself blushing under the look. It’s a feeling he’s definitely not used to and he has to fight the urge to look away again. 

Jaskier only laughs again and Geralt knows he would do anything to keep hearing that sound. As it starts to die away, it echoes around the room still and Geralt revels in it. He never knew how much he missed the sound until it was gone and now that he has it back... Holding Jaskier as close to his side as he can, Geralt takes a deep breath, trying to keep what’s coming at bay for as long as he can. 

Running his fingers over Geralt’s shirt, Jaskier lets out a soft sigh and Geralt curses inwardly; the bard has always been able to read him, even when he does everything he can to hide it. “You can tell me, you know,” Jaskier whispers. “I’m here for you too.”

Geralt loves how light Jaskier’s voice still sounds and hates that he has to be the one to change it. “You didn’t tell me about the nightmares,” Geralt starts. He’s hiding from the bigger question, dancing around it for as long as he can, and he knows it. “Yennefer told me,” he adds, already feeling Jaskier tensing next to him. 

“Ah,” the bard replies after a moment, relaxing minutely again. “She has always been so... perceptive.” With a sigh that’s heavier than before, Jaskier starts trailing his fingers over Geralt again. 

Not wanting to push him, Geralt finds himself waiting on Jaskier. He’s been doing a lot of that lately, but he knows doing anything else will only make this whole thing worse. It’s already a hard situation to be in made even more complicated by not only their emotions, but their pasts as well. Having Jaskier not looking at him with disgust in the first place is a victory Geralt knows he can’t take for granted and pushing that is the last thing he wants to do. 

After a while, Jaskier seems to finally be ready to speak again; Geralt can feel the moment he gathers himself and tries not to seem like he notices. “I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have the nightmares. They started so soon after... and they just never went away...” Jaskier trails off and Geralt finds it’s all he can do to stay quiet as he listens. 

“There’s never faces in my dreams,” Jaskier continues after a long moment. “It’s mostly just people.. shapes. Lots of hands... There’s been so much that’s happened that sometimes I wonder if it’s the only way I’m even processing what’s happening.” A hand runs over Geralt’s chest, fingers playing with his shirt. The warmth and the weight give him something to focus on as he listens, forcing his attention somewhere.

“I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to dream normally. Or to just not dream at all,” the bard says with a huff. It’s a twisted sound, one Geralt replays over and over in his mind, wondering if he’s ever heard it before from Jaskier. “Geralt, I... I need to tell you something. I need you to not get mad or upset, need you to know I wasn’t h-hiding this f-from you...”

As the stutter makes itself known again, Geralt tenses, remembering Yennefer’s words from earlier. He listens as Jaskier’s heart rate picks up, can smell fear in the air mixing in with the overwhelming smell of sadness and pain that seems to hover permanently over Jaskier. “You don’t have to be afraid, Jask,” Geralt tells him softly. He’s proud to hear that he’s managed to keep the anger out of his voice, not wanting the bard to think it’s directed at him. He runs his hand over Jaskier’s arm as he speaks. “You can always tell me anything. I won’t be upset.”

Sighing shakily, Jaskier nods, his hair brushing Geralt’s chest. “I... I wish I c-could say this is all that h-happens...” the bard starts, his words sounding as if they are forced out of him. Geralt hums, letting Jaskier know he has a rough understanding as to what he is alluding to, encouraging him to continue. “I don’t know how they d-did it, b-but.. Fuck...” Jaskier breaks off, taking yet another deep breath. 

Before he can start again, Geralt leans down and nuzzles softly against Jaskier’s head. He let’s himself be overwhelmed by the soft smell of the soap he used to clean Jaskier’s hair the day before and he realizes how still the bard goes beneath him. Letting his hand travel from Jaskier’s arm up towards the back of his neck, Geralt squeezes gently, pressing against points he knows will be stiff. After a few moments of this, Jaskier melts as the tension leaves his slender body. With another breath, Jaskier seems to pull himself together and starts his story again. 

“Somehow, the potion ends worse than it begins. I’m not sure how, but it gets so much more worse towards the end as it starts to leave my system,” Jaskier starts and Geralt can hear the confusion behind the words. “I didn’t know how to tell you about it because even after all of this time, I still have no idea how it works. Whatever mage they have making it is.. clever, for lack of a better word.”

“More like they’re sick and twisted...” Geralt growls. He can’t hold it back even though he knows he isn’t really adding anything by saying it. 

Jaskier chuckles. “You’re not wrong,” the bard states before falling silent again. Geralt feels something in him change, can smell the air growing thicker with a confusing haze of emotions. “Geralt... can you promise me something?”

“Anything, Jaskier,” Geralt answers immediately. 

“Shouldn’t say that when you don’t mean it,” Jaskier mumbles, but before Geralt can ask what he means by that, Jaskier is pulling away from the witcher. He lets him, his hand sliding away from Jaskier’s neck; he never stops touching the bard though, his fingers trailing down a slender arm that used to hold so much power. Blue eyes find him and Geralt feels his breath catch at the intensity in them. A fire he hasn’t seen in so long burns within him and Geralt’s words get stuck in his throat as he waits. 

“Before this ends, I’ll stop being lucid. I will lose every sense of what’s going on around me except for feeling... so much pain,” Jaskier starts, his words heavy. “The potion... it turns me into someone else, makes me beg for things I never would. It’s... the time they made the most coin on me.”

As Jaskier talks. Geralt wants to look away, wants to shut out everything that’s coming out of the bard’s mouth. The urge to make it all stop fights the need to know what’s coming and he can feel it pulling him apart. He can’t though; the blue in front of him tethers him in place, keep shim from running away from the conversation. He hates this, and when more words fall from Jaskier, he latches on to them. 

“I beg for more. Plead for people to take me apart. I remember all of it, yet I am powerless to do anything about it.” Jaskier’s voice is shaking, but his words stay strong as he holds himself up next to Geralt. “I want nothing to do with what’s happening, but not being touched is the worse feeling in the world. Fire burns through me until someone does something to me. I won’t be able to fix it with my own hands anymore. It will be liek earlier, but so much... I will beg you for so much more, Geralt.”

When Jaskier pauses this time, his words sink in with Geralt and his stomach rolls as he processes them. “Jask...”

“It’s you, Geralt,” the bard says, cutting the witcher off before he can even get started. “It’s you this time and I know this was never... we’ve always danced around it, pretended it wasn’t there, but we can’t. Not this time.” There are tears in Jaskier’s eyes, threatening to spill over. “I trust you, Geralt, even after everything that happened on the mountain. I trust you to t-take care of me, like you always h-have.”

“Jaskier, you don’t-” Geralt tries but he can only watch as Jaskier shakes his head. The tears break loose, sliding down his cheeks, and as much as he wants to reach out and wipe them away, he’s trapped by the other man’s gaze. 

“I do, Geralt,” Jaskier!” Jaskier exclaims and the witcher flinches at the sound, hating how much desperation he can hear behind the words. “I h-have to tell you t-this now, before I c-can’t!” Jaskier’s chest is heaving now as sobs start to catch in his throat. He never once falters, his gaze never wavers, and Geralt feels himself breaking at the sight of his bard being so strong. 

“If I don’t t-tell you this n-now, you’ll s-start to think it’s your f-fault,” Jaskier continues, pushing through the sobs. “I need you t-to know that whatever h-happens, whatever I b-beg you for, I t-trust you, Geralt. I’m saying I consent, alright? While I’m st-still lucid enough to do so, I consent t-to all of it, Geralt. N-not just you helping m-me when I don’t have the strength, b-but anything you have to d-do to make it stop. I know it’s n-not fair to you, n-not fair of m-me to ask this of you, but Geralt, please, don’t-t leave m-me to suffer through it. Please, make it s-stop, make it-”

Unable to hear the pain in Jaskier’s words any longer, Geralt finally makes himself move. One moment, Jaskier is rambling, tears falling in earnest now as he shakes and sobs, and the next he’s wrapped in Geralt’s arms. The witcher surges forward, pulling Jaskier as close as he can. The bard moves easily, burying his face in Geralt’s neck as his cries continue, but his words fall off. Thin hands that used to be calloused covered, spread over Geralt’s back, clinging to him as his thin frame shakes. 

Geralt just holds him while he cries. His own emotions have turned into a giant mess, but he pushes it all aside. He can’t bring himself to focus on anything else. As he holds the bard, his mind goes over everything Jaskier has told him. It pains him to repeat those words, even to himself, but as he does, he realizes this entire thing is so much worse than he ever thought it could be. 

“Is this partly why you’re so thin?” Geralt hears himself asking. As the question crosses his mind, the words instantly fall out of his mouth before he can even think to hold them back. 

Jaskier seems to take forever to hear Geralt’s words and just as the witcher thinks Jaskier is too far gone to hear him right now, he feels Jaskier nod his head. Geralt feels the vibrations of the growl he’s emitting before his brain can completely process the sound, but Jaskier doesn’t try to move away from him, so Geralt doesn’t try to stop it. Instead, he holds on tighter, entirely too aware of how easily he can hurt Jaskier right now if he squeezes too hard. 

“We need to make a plan,” Geralt finally states, keeping his vice as neutral as possible as he speaks. Jaskier nods again and Geralt wonders if it’s too late for words this time. Moving to lay them both down, he stops when Jaskier shakes his head, giving the bard more time. 

The sobs finally start to die off. The tears slow. The shakes don’t disappear though, and Geralt finds he hates them more than the sobs. “You’re right, of course,” Jaskier whispers before taking a deep breath. He still doesn’t move to pull away and in fact, he tightens his grip as if he’s afraid Geralt will leave him. 

“Can I make sure I understand?” Geralt asks, trying to show Jaskier he cares and is listening. Once Jaskier nods, he puts his words in order and goes over the parts he understands. “You won’t have any control over what your body needs, correct?”

Jaskier nods. 

“And it only gets more painful if there’s no contact at all. Worse pain than what you’re already been dealing with?”

Another nod followed by a soft, shaky breath.

Geralt takes a deep breath himself before continuing. “You’re saying you trust me enough to do what I have to do in order to keep you from hurting...”

His words end in a whisper, but they hang heavily between them all the same. This time, Jaskier pulls away enough to look up at Geralt. Eyes full of tears once more, he nods again. 

“I trust you, Geralt. You’re the only one I trust to do this...”

Sucking in a breath, Geralt finds hi feels like he’s taken a blow to the chest and it takes him longer than he would ever care to admit to figure out how to breathe through the feeling. Once he does, he reaches up, cupping Jaskier’s face in one hand. He uses his thumb to wipe away a tear that starts to escape. 

“I know you won’t take advantage...” Jaskier continues, another tear escaping. “I know you’ll only be doing it to help me and...”

“I’ve done you so much wrong, Jaskier...” Geralt murmurs when Jaskier falls silent again “I’ve said and done so much to you that I never should have...”

He’s not saying the words to talk Jaskier out of anything; not bringing it up in order to cause the bard more pain. He can’t help it though. Geralt knows he’s fucked up more than he has ever admitted to himself and he just can’t understand why Jaskier would ever want him to be the one to help him. The witcher knows how he feels and even though he has no idea how to explain it, the trust Jaskier is placing in him is almost overwhelming. “Jaskier, I-”

“I know, Geralt,” Jaskier interrupts, sliding a hand up Geralt’s chest. “I still... I...” a shaky breath. “I need you, Geralt. I’ve always needed you...”

A small, watery smile follows Jaskier’s words and Geralt brushes more tears away before guiding the bard’s forehead to rest against his own. “I’ve got you, Jaskier,” Geralt utters, words filling the remaining space between them. “I’ve always got you.”

It’s a few hours before Geralt feels things have settled down enough between them to bring up planning again. Night has fallen, they’ve both eaten... something, and the fire is crackling away strong as ever. Jaskier is once again resting on Geralt, an arm draped over his chest. It’s becoming a common position for them and Geralt tries not to get used to it as he runs a hand through the bard’s hair. Wondering if they’ll have time to bathe Jaskier again before the worst is upon them, he looks down, watching Jaskier’s face for any changes. 

“Jask,” Geralt starts, waiting for a sign of acknowledgment before he continues. The bard hums, pulling his eyes open. “Can we go over a few things?”

He can hear Jaskier’s sigh and has to push away the guilt he feels at the sound. While he knows Jaskier would rather relax, would rather pretend none of this is happening, Geralt reminds himself that they have to talk about this. They could lose the chance any moment now. 

With all of that in mind, Geralt continues to play with Jaskier’s hair in hopes it’s doing something to help. “How long does it usually last, once it starts?” He opens with what he hopes is an easy question. Wanting to be able to plan for what’s coming up, Geralt hopes Jaskier will be understanding about all of it this. 

Jaskier sighs. “To be honest, I never know,” the bard starts. “Every version of the potion was different, so the effects have always been all over the place.”

“What should we try and plan for then,” Geralt asks, trying to at least get an idea. 

The bard shifts against him and Geralt can feel how uncomfortable he already is with all of this. “The last few doses, the end patterns were... similar. If we’re talking overall length of time, the shortest one was two days and the longest was almost a week. The attacks themselves... it’s almost never ending...”

Jaskier pauses, taking a deep breath. When he doesn’t start again, Geralt realizes he’s waiting and he quickly moves on to the next question. “Do you want to stay here in this room or one further into the keep? There will be less ears listening with the latter, but I know you’re comfortable here, too.”

The answer comes slower this time. “Which would work better?” he asks softly. 

Geralt grunts. “Both are fine with me. I care about your comfort; I don’t want you to be anywhere you don’t want to be.”

The witcher waits as Jaskier goes over his words. He almost thinks he should explain to the bard that it won’t be hard for them to move, that the room just needs extra blankets and the hearth lit. He doesn’t get the chance. “Would we be less of a bother to everyone else here?”

“You don’t need to worry about that,” Geralt says before he can stop himself. “You aren’t a bother to anyone here. This is entirely about what you need and nothing else.”

Jaskier nods eventually, but Geralt can tell he still doesn’t believe the words. “I think the other room would be the better option,” Jaskier finally replies as he stares off into space. 

Geralt doesn’t know how to feel about the answer when Jaskier doesn’t say anything else and he knows it’s time to drop it. Making a mental note to ask Vesemir and Eskel for help in the morning, Geralt moves on. The next question is a hard one, one he almost doesn’t even want an answer to, but he knows he needs to ask it anyways. “When you say anything... how far will this go, Jaskier?”

He wants to take the words back as soon as he says them. Jaskier takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. The shakes start soon after and Geralt hates the effect his words have. “Jaskier, you don’t have to answer that, I’m sorry, I wasn’t-”

“It’s ok, “ Jaskier whispers. “I d-don’t blame you for want-ting to know...”

Even as the stutter returns to Jaskier’s words, he can hear how strong the bard is trying to be behind them. “I just don’t want to something that’s going to make it worse...” Geralt mumbles, not really knowing how to explain what he’s feeling. “I say that with the understanding that it’s going to be hard no matter what happens,” Geralt adds quickly, not wanting Jaskier to misunderstand his words 

“N-no matter what happens,” Jaskier finally whispers after a long moment. “No matter what you d-do, it’s not... I..”

“Shh...” Geralt shushes Jaskier when the bard starts to spiral. The bard’s chest is heaving against Geralt’s side and he moves to wrap both arms around him. With a soft whimper, Jaskier buries his face and Geralt can’t help the stab of guilt he feels running through him. 

“I’m sorry, Jaskier,” Geralt murmurs, hating that he’s partially to blame for what is currently happening. 

He stops paying attention to how much time passes. All he’s aware of is Jaskier’s tears soaking into his shirt and breaths that are gasped out next to him. “D-don’t...” Jaskier breathes out. 

Taking a deep breath, Geralt goes over the words he needs to say, trying to organize his whole reason for bringing all of this up. “I know you keep saying anything,” Geralt starts once Jaskier’s tears slow. He can feel the bard tense against him, but he pushes on, needing to get the words out before he loses the chance. “There are... There’s something I know I won’t be able to do. I can’t do that to you.”

His words fall off again and Jaskier shifts, sniffing as he moves to wipe his face. “Are you s-saying... does this m-mean you won’t...”

“Oh, gods, Jaskier,” Geralt cuts in, realizing where the bard is going. Moving a hand to Jaskier’s chin, he guides it up until red rimmed eyes catch his. “I’m not saying I won’t help. That’s not what I meant. I’m not leaving you to suffer this alone.”

Eyes flick back and forth between the two of his and he watches as his words sink in with Jaskier. A small wave of relief washes over his face only to be replaced by confusion and some other emotion that Geralt can’t quite place. “I don’t und-derstand what you m-mean then...” he whispers finally. 

Geralt gathers himself. “I wasn’t trying to say I won’t help; of course I will,” he starts, trying to reassure him one more time. Even the idea of leaving Jaskier to suffer by himself has Geralt’s chest clenching painfully. Pushing on, Geralt moves his hand from chin to cheek, wanting to keep looking at Jaskier as he continues. “I will do whatever I have to to help you, except fuck you. I know you’re saying you give your consent for anything, but I can’t...”

Jaskier releases a shaky breath and Geralt can tell he’s fighting back trembles. “Geralt, I wish...” he starts, voice stronger. “I appreciate you thinking that way, but there’s a chance that it could be the only thing that helps.”

Pushing aside the horror those words bring to mind, Geralt tries once again to explain. “If that’s the case, I’ll figure something out, but I can’t do that to you. Not like this. We need a chance to talk properly first, need time to get things out in the open without the threat of this potion hanging over our heads. I... You deserve more than that.”

“Geralt...” Jaskier whimpers, and the one word is full of so much that it makes Geralt’s entire being ache. 

Brushing a lock of hair away from Jaskier’s face, Geralt gives him the smallest smile he can. “You... this means more to me that I could ever explain and...” Geralt has to look away, has to tear his eyes away from the intense ones in front of him. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Jaskier states simply. Geralt looks back up again and is greeted by the bard’s own smile. 

A gentle silence falls over them, one Geralt finds he’s afraid to break. As a thought crosses his mind, Geralt takes a deep breath before he loses all of his courage. Leaning forwards, the witcher presses his lips against Jaskier’s forehead, showing as much emotion as he can in this moment. He knows it isn’t a lot, but right now, it’s all he has. With not having a chance to really talk, without knowing how Jaskier feels about him away from the potion’s effects...

He doesn’t let his lips linger for very long. Pulling away, he only leaves enough space to press his own forehead where his lips used to be. As they breathe each other in, he can feel and hear a hand moving up to tangle in his hair, fingers moving through the strands easily. It’s not enough and too much all at once and it takes everything he has to stay in the moment and not run from it. 

“We will get through this...”

Geralt smiles at the words, pulling Jaskier closer once he’s processed the truth behind them. “We will,” Geralt echoes. Settling back in the bed once again, he tucks Jaskier into his side once more, wrapping him up in his arms. He can’t stop what’s heading their way, but for now, he knows he will do whatever he can to keep the bard safe. For now, he’s doing the job the best he can. 

In the light of day, he knows that everything can all change and even as he tries to push that thought away, he can’t quite stop the fear creeping over him as Jaskier starts to change while he sleeps. They’re running out of time; a fact Geralt is painfully aware of with each whine that escapes from the sleeping figure wrapped in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things!
> 
> 1\. Next chapter is going to come with a lot of tag updates most likely. It going to be a bit of a doozy, but I hope you'll all stick with me through it. 
> 
> 2\. I think I have finally figured out how I want this to end. It could then lead to a squeal that would only be a couple of chapters, so we shall see!
> 
> Thank you for the comments! I read them all and I love them all. The email notifications always make my day and I appreciate everyone that takes the time to leave me one!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are always loved and appreciated and I try to answer them whenever I can!


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